Survival
by Appreciate
Summary: Tyr and Beka marooned on a planet. Whole cast supporting. Post of what's already at SS. Warning: New part is - erm - sappy :)
1. Default Chapter

Part 1  
  
Dylan's vision was blurry, eyes swollen and gritty as he blinked several times to try to clear his sight. For a time, he hung blank-minded, vaguely conscious of the pain in his shoulders, wrists and ankles but not enough aware to wonder about its source.  
  
Soon enough, though, the pain broke through his fog, its talons raking through his consciousness, dragging him to a reluctant awareness. A groan gritted its way out of his hoarse throat as the full mark of his agony made itself known to him.  
  
More urgently, Dylan strained blurry eyes, trying to make sense of the sensations around him. Gradually, he realized that he was more or less upright, held relentlessly by bindings. Groaning again despite himself, he staggered in place, working to get his feet under him and relieve the tortuous pressure caused by his hanging from bindings at his wrists and ankles. Bumping his head painfully against the wall at his back, Dylan Hunt, High Guard Captain and the last of the Argosy, finally gained his feet to look about him with an incredulous, pain-filled gaze. He was chained against rough walls underground, and he was entirely alone.  
  
  
  
Tyr's return to consciousness was even less pleasant. They had beaten him savagely before chaining him up, and the swimming of his head was so severe that getting his weight on his feet took considerably longer. As one of his legs was broken, success at this effort did not turn out to be an ultimate victory; as soon as he tried to stand the limb collapsed, throwing him against the chains again. He felt the resulting anguish for only a moment; then darkness mercifully took him again.  
  
  
  
But it was Beka's plight that was the most perilous, and the most potentially disastrous. She'd been restrained but basically unharmed, watching horrified as they had beaten Dylan - and mauled Tyr in proportion to his massive resistance. Screaming at their aggressors, she'd fought as hard as she could to get free and help them as her friends were systematically leveled. She could still see the trail of blood where they'd dragged Tyr and Dylan off.  
  
Unwillingly, her eyes followed that grisly path, then returned to contemplate the horror just before her. What would she do? She'd been through a lot, but how could she possibly survive what seemed to be in store next? Her entire body thrilled with terror as her mind fought for a way to remove her from this trap.  
  
  
  
On board the Andromeda, Harper, Trance and Rommie surveyed the stubbornly blank viewscreen. The Maru was missing, nowhere to be found along the course it had originally taken, and Dylan, Tyr and Beka had vanished along with it. Where could they be? They were now more than two standard days past the rendezvous time, and there had been no message, no sign from them.  
  
Rommie felt a familiar sinking feeling as she looked into the near-frantic eyes of her Commander in residence, Harper. Harper was a great engineer, and she cared a lot for him, but his grasp of command tactics was less than stellar. Rommie had protested privately to Dylan that he should at least leave Tyr behind when he'd left, but Dylan had been adamant that Harper could handle it. For a moment, Rommie lost herself in remembering the last moment that Dylan was standing before her, safe and healthy, until Harper's voice snapped her back to the present.  
  
"Trance, what should we do now?" Harper's voice had the whiney edge that came along with stress, and Trance looked reassuringly at him before she answered. The old Trance would have smiled at Harper, but new Trance was more sparing of her smiles.  
  
"You've checked all their likely trajectories from the point at which you lose them on Wormhole?"  
  
"Yeah, and there's nothin' anywhere. No sign."  
  
"This is not good, Harper." Trance was silent for a moment, fingertips drumming on the railing. "Let's try heading toward the Saskillion Nebula. Maybe we can pick up something there."  
  
Without a word, Harper turned to key in the course. "Transiting to Slipstream in five." With the usual unearthly burst of light the Andromeda disappeared into Slipstream.  
  
  
  
Beka watched with horrified fascination as they readied the medical apparatus in front of her. She'd tested her bonds again and again, and the blood oozing from under them testified that she could not break free of them no matter how she tried. Still, she mounted an enormous struggle as they came towards her with injector in hand. The last thing she knew was the sting of the needle in her neck.  
  
  
  
Several hours passed, and Dylan's various aches had not improved. The addition of hunger and a growing thirst made his situation even less pleasant, so it was with some relief that he heard a rattling in the lock of the chamber's door, a relief that lasted until he met the coldest eyes he had ever seen.  
  
The aliens that had attacked them were unusual. Tall and deceptively slender, the bipedal beings had violet skin and dark, coarse hair growing in roughly humanoid patterns except for the triangle of hair growing down on their foreheads, like an exaggerated widow's peak. Their teeth, however, were needle-sharp and narrow, and their eyes an unusual, glowing amber. From what Dylan had seen of their hands, they had claws rather than fingernails, and though their feet were encased in boots he suspected, from the way they moved and the size of the toes boxes on their footwear, that they had articulated toes with similar claws. They were dressed in sophisticated, skin-tight suits of shiny materials in various rainbow colors, with strategic cut-outs to display patches of skin. Their gender was not obvious from any characteristics he could see.  
  
The first person into Dylan's chilly cell resembled the other aliens he had fought earlier, except for hair color. This individual's hair was a screaming red, somehow suggesting the color of human blood. Dylan's eyes widened a little as he looked at it, and then he met the creature's eyes, eyes devoid of any feeling or spark of life. Dylan had the distinct impression that the alien thought it was looking at a lower-level animal when it regarded him, and a fairly unpleasant animal at that.  
  
With the lead alien came two of the number that had defeated him earlier. These were on either side of a fourth figure, a woman. With a shove, one of the aliens pushed the human toward Dylan, and a sharp burst of incomprehensible speech from the leader accompanied the woman's stagger forward.  
  
Dylan saw the woman brace herself, setting her shoulders and straightening before she turned to look at his body. Not meeting his eyes, the woman walked up to Dylan and, removing a medical scanner from a pouch near her waist, began scanning him for injuries.  
  
"Hey! Hello?! Who are you and why am I chained up?" Dylan's voice was full of rough demand, but the woman never even looked up. Muttering to herself, she took an injector from her pouch and, easily following his limited move to avoid it, gave him a quick injection in his shoulder. Dylan felt a flood of pain relief as whatever drug was in the injection took effect.  
  
"What was that?" he asked sharply. Still ignoring him, the woman turned to the alien leader and spoke in the language that Dylan did not understand. Despite the gravity of his situation, an absent corner of Dylan's mind noted the musical sweetness of the woman's voice, slightly husky and strained though it was. In response to her speech, the alien leader barked out another sentence, and its two followers came forward to Dylan.  
  
Dylan tensed at their nearness, fearing another attack, but instead one of them trained a weapon steadily on him while the other bent to fasten yet another fetter to his ankle, this one with a much longer chain. Dylan watched this procedure, puzzled, until they moved next to undo the other bindings on his ankles.  
  
At this point the woman interjected something again, and Dylan didn't have to speak the alien language to understand the leader's exasperated reaction. The woman apparently stood firm, however, because the leader made a rough gesture that Dylan took to be acquiescence to the alien working on his bindings. The alien left off what he was doing and disappeared out of the cell for a moment, returning with a rough pallet that he put near the captain's feet. The alien also brought a carafe of liquid, and despite his anger Dylan eyed it with a hopeful look. Then the purple-skinned being looked at the woman as though waiting for something.  
  
"Do not try anything, or you will be rebound." The woman spoke with an unusual accent, and she was finally meeting his eyes with a stern look in her own - which, Dylan noted with a tiny corner of his mind, were a striking grass green. Dylan nodded and used the opportunity to speak back to her as the alien unfastened the bindings around his wrists.  
  
"My friends? What have you done with them?" Dylan's voice was sharp with concern.  
  
The alien leader spoke in a harsh voice, and the woman hesitated before answering him. Then, again avoiding his gaze, she said, "I am sorry, but they are dead." Turning quickly, she left the room with the aliens following her, leaving Dylan alone with the beginnings of a tearing sorrow.  
  
"No!" he said, his pain-filled voice dying away in the empty room as he collapsed onto the pallet at his feet. Only the lock turning in the door opposite him answered his agonized protest.  
  
  
  
In another cell, the tall, dark Nietzschean was still crumpled in place, bound and hanging from his wrists and ankles. Another pallet was brought, and at a gesture from their leader, the aliens unbound the lifeless man and laid him on the pallet. They fastened another cuff around his sound ankle as the woman, brow creased, ran her scan over his powerful body. What she saw apparently concerned her; she shook her head and administered three injections. With a gentleness that betrayed her, she also set his leg, securing it with a careful bracing and adding a fourth injection at the site of the fracture. At a barked inquiry from the alien leader, she shook her head again and spoke gravely, green eyes slightly hazy from unshed tears.  
  
  
  
There had been no foreshadowing of this situation; no sense of impending doom in Beka's invitation. In fact, there'd been the possibility of fun, Dylan ironically recalled. Beka had walked onto the Com deck with a flexi in her hand, eyes dancing at the message on it. "Hey, Dylan, get this. They're having a salvager's ball on Wormhole Drift next month. I don't know why I haven't heard anything about it, but anyway, I'm invited. Is it OK if I go?"  
  
"Can you bring guests?"  
  
"Umm," the lanky blond looked puzzled for a moment. "Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Then I'm in."  
  
"Dylan," Beka protested, laughing a little, "that wasn't an invite!"  
  
"Yeah, but I'm the captain," he said smugly.  
  
Beka rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and rank has its privileges. Hmmph."  
  
"Hmmph all you want but I've wanted to go to a salvagers' ball ever since you told me that story about -."  
  
"OK, OK, we don't need to go into it. You can come along - if I can go."  
  
"Of course you can go."  
  
  
  
Tyr had added himself to the party later. "I understand," he'd said to Dylan on the Com deck, "that you and Captain Valentine are taking a little outing to Wormhole Drift? Since it seems a time for frivolous side trips, I have an errand on that Drift and would like to accompany you."  
  
Dylan had looked at Tyr for a moment, weighing it. "And the Andromeda?"  
  
Tyr had shrugged. "Harper and Trance can stay behind for a change. With the ship's help they can probably handle it."  
  
Briefly, Dylan considered asking Tyr for details about his errand, but he had to concede that, aside from the disastrous outing to Enga's Redoubt, Tyr had not requested any personal time in more than a year. Not that he'd requested that, exactly. But still, he was due some time, no doubt about that. And this quadrant of space was pretty safe, so Harper and Trance probably could handle it. With a shrug of his own, Dylan gave in. "OK, Mr. Anasazi. Join us."  
  
As he lay on the rough pallet, shivering a little from cold and pain, Dylan regretted giving that permission. If he had not been lied to, that invitation had cost the Kodiak his life. Dylan was surprised at the sorrow that washed over him with that realization. And if he thought about Beka. So he didn't. With a steely resolve, he didn't think about Beka being dead. Not at all.  
  
  
  
Beka came to gradually. Her vision was fuzzy, and she didn't seem to be able to turn her head at all. Eventually, she figured out that her head was braced in one place, and her whole body was completely immobilized. She also realized that she had an odd collection of very painful spots on her forehead and scalp, but she couldn't lift her hand to figure out what was going on up there. She moaned a little, her fear growing at her complete immobility.  
  
To her surprise, her moan was answered. A face swam into her view, a human woman's face with amazing green eyes. Unwilling compassion seemed to flicker in those eyes, and a gentle hand checked at the sources of Beka's pain. Flipping a switch, the unknown woman managed to elevate the head of the bed to which Beka was secured, making drinking a possibility. Abruptly, Beka realized her mouth was completely dry, and she accepted the straw offered her with relief.  
  
When she had drunk her fill, she let go of the straw and immediately asked, "Where am I, and what have you done with my friends?" Silence answered her, and her inability to turn her head became infuriating. "Damn you, what's going on?" Her ragged voice was fierce, but she received no answer. Soon a flood of sleepiness took her; drugged was her last thought before she lost consciousness again.  
  
  
  
Andromeda transited into normal space in a minor system near the Saskillion Nebula. She scanned the system carefully, searching not only for traces of the Maru but also for potentially hostile parties. Space where they had been waiting for Dylan was relatively safe, but space here was considerably more risky. Pirates, scavengers, rogue Nietzscheans, and other unsavory characters were known to linger around here, and Andromeda did not want to be taken unaware.  
  
But she found nothing, neither a threat nor any sign of the Maru.  
  
"Trance, the Maru is not here."  
  
"No, I know it's not."  
  
Harper sounded more than exasperated. "Well, why did we come here then, Trance?"  
  
"Because I think Dylan might be. Head toward that second planet, all right? I want you to monitor the broadcasts on its surface."  
  
  
  
The woman with green eyes turned her head to the side to avert her gaze as the aliens struggled with the heavy body bag, an experiment that had gone horribly wrong. She hated to see things end like that, but there was nothing she could do. For the millionth or so time, loathing, sorrow, terror and hatred washed over her. How could they have taken Ian? And how would she ever get him free? Even the fact that they let her live with him did not lessen the terrible tragedy her life had become.  
  
For a moment she sat and trembled, overwhelmed by the emotions. Then, a thought gradually found its way through the emotional storm. Even incarcerated on this backwater planet, she had heard of Dylan Hunt, the same man, unless she was much mistaken, who had taken up unwilling residence in the cell block down below. If this Hunt character was such a hero, might he be able to help her free her son and escape the horrid servitude she'd been forced to? For the first time in a long time, Galil felt a very faint stirring of hope. It felt so good she clung to it, fanning the irrational flicker with every ounce of her formidable will.  
  
When she was called to her loathsome duty again, to the horrible perversion of the training she had struggled for, she went willingly despite the vows she had foresworn. If she could convince Hunt to help her, maybe she had a chance to escape the hell her life - and her son's - had become.  
  
  
  
Galil carefully added sedatives to Beka's injection, working to keep her quiescent until the wounds in the blonde's head - wounds that she had made - had healed enough so that it was safe to free her hands. She gave Beka the injection and set up a fluids IV. She did not want Beka incapacitated permanently. Not if she was to win the cooperation of her Captain. Ignoring the hostile scrutiny of the guards, she carefully worked to help Beka heal as quickly and comfortably as possible.  
  
When Galil finished with Beka, she went to check on the other two. The tall Nietzschean was still unconscious, but his color, she was pleased to note, was better and his breathing less labored. Unless he suddenly took a turn for the worse, he was on the road to recovery. For a second, she marveled at the formidable response of his healing system, then she moved on, always with her alien guard shadowing her.  
  
On to Hunt's cell. She was going to have to play her cards carefully here to communicate anything to the handsome captain without arousing the suspicions of her escort. As she entered his cell, she met the captain's keen eyes meaningfully.  
  
"Time for your exam. Please don't react - I have things I need to tell you. Lie down."  
  
From his sprawled position on the pallet, Hunt met her eyes for a startled moment then turned and lay flat.  
  
"I am pretending to examine your limbs," she said as she got out her scanner. Your friends are alive, I was lying before." She finished the sentence with an inquiring lilt, as though it was a question, while gesturing to his right leg. "Please say 'yes.'"  
  
"Yes," he replied after a startled moment. "They will expect me to ask you about them. What do you mean?"  
  
Galil shook her head as though refusing to answer. "The Niet was badly wounded and. and so was your other friend." Again her sentence ended with an inquiring lilt, and this time she gestured to the other leg.  
  
"No," Hunt responded, playing a part.  
  
"The Szezhume have captured my son." This time the 'question' was directed toward his arm, which Hunt, she noted with approval, obligingly flexed for her.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" he asked demandingly, as though pressing her for further information.  
  
"Help me rescue him, and I will help you free your friends." The other arm, which Hunt moved again.  
  
"Yes," he responded with a fervor unrelated to their pretense. At her warning look, he subsided, feigning resentment. He turned his face away from her.  
  
"Be ready," she cautioned as she rose to leave him.  
  
"Always," he retorted, very much in character.  
  
  
  
But later, when the key turned noisily in Dylan's lock once again, instead of the rescue he was hoping for he was stunned to see the woman, bruised and bleeding, tossed into the cell with him. He braced himself to try to catch her, but she was hurled to the floor.  
  
  
  
Tyr awoke, finally, to find himself much improved. Still in a lot of pain, he was relieved to be lying down and also to have had his leg bound and hopefully set. His brow creased as he worried for a moment about the bone healing unset, but then he put that thought aside. Moving around, he was distracted by the clinking of the chain links attached his ankle. He stretched out his leg to survey the cuff on his ankle. He believed he could break it, but as this set up was much preferred to hanging from the wall he decided to forgo that pleasure for a while.  
  
Tyr was silent, listening. Despite his enhanced metabolism, the room where he was imprisoned felt chilly and dank. Windowless, it was also dark, with walls of rough-hewn stone. The door was the only fixture in the room; massive steel, it looked formidable.  
  
Brow still creased, the Nietzschean reflected on the chain of events that had brought them to this pass.  
  
  
  
Beka had seemed unusually fussy as she was getting ready to depart for Wormhole. Tyr had watched, amused, as she'd made no fewer than three trips back to her quarters on the Andromeda, to fetch items she needed for the next week. Harper and Trance had been carefully briefed, and Dylan had swung onto the Maru right on time, his possessions packed in a neat bag by his side.  
  
Beka had eyed the bag with a flick. "Black tie?"  
  
Dylan nodded, and with a disbelieving quirk to her brow at the paucity of his luggage, Beka had returned to prepping the Maru.  
  
"You guys ready?" she'd asked, moments later.  
  
"Yup," responded Dylan, taking up the place behind her in the Maru's command area. Tyr had lounged further back, near the weapons station, as Beka requested that Rommie open the landing bay doors.  
  
"That's a big 10-4, Eureka Maru," had come Harper's cheerful voice over the comm.  
  
Beka exchanged a mystified look with Dylan. "Huh?" she queried the exuberant engineer.  
  
"Ancient Earth for 'affirmative,' Beka," Harper had sounded resigned as he explained yet another piece of slang. "Y'all have a great trip now."  
  
"Harper," Dylan had said, predictably, "don't break my ship."  
  
"Aw, g'wan Boss. Nothing's gonna happen here. It'll just be boring." Famous last words, Tyr had thought as the Maru lifted out of her home on the Andromeda and headed into space.  
  
"Streaming in five," Beka had chirped, and they were off.  
  
Arrival at Wormhole had been remarkable only for its ease - at first. Wormhole was a busy drift at the slowest time; with the added traffic generated by the ball they had all expected to have to shuttle down to the Drift rather than docking at the spaceport. But when they appeared in normal space and hailed the Portmaster, they'd been pleased to be directed to a regular dock - albeit one on the farthest side of the Drift.  
  
After Beka had effortlessly lined up the Maru, slipping her ship into place, they'd gathered their belongings and prepared to depart. Dylan had shouldered one of Beka's bags amid some serious teasing about her inefficient packing. Tyr had been in the lead, turning to bid the others farewell, when the unmistakable sound of weapons being drawn had jerked him around, into a ready crouch.  
  
But it had already been too late. "Ambush," was the only thing Tyr had been able to think before the sizzling fire of a nerve disruptor had engulfed him. Tyr had known nothing more until he had come to and tried to fight for liberty, some hours before.  
  
Where was he, Tyr wondered, and where were Dylan and Beka? Who had been lying in wait for them? What was going on?  
  
Tyr's musings were suddenly disrupted by the clanking of a key in his cell door. His heavy brows snapped together as Tyr saw the door opened by an alien carrying his slender blonde crewmate carelessly over his shoulder. Tyr braced as the alien flung Beka's lifeless body onto the floor. Sparing not a glance in the Nietzschean's direction, the alien withdrew, locking the door behind him.  
  
  
  
Dylan quickly crawled over to the green-eyed woman sprawled on the floor. Moaning, the woman opened those extraordinary eyes - eyes glazed, at the moment, with pain and fear. Blinking in an obvious effort to clear her vision, the woman looked around, then focused on Dylan with a dawning terror. Wordlessly, she met his worried gaze, then closed her eyes with her face twisted. She averted her head as though she could deny the truth of where she was by looking in another direction.  
  
Politely, Dylan cleared his throat. "Um.hi," he offered, voice low and quiet.  
  
For a short while the woman ignored him, then, with a palpable effort, she turned back to him. Dylan's eyes traced the path of the tears that had forced their way out of her closed eyes, then returned to meet her gaze.  
  
"Hi," she answered, hopelessness in her tone.  
  
"I'm guessing this wasn't part of your plan?" he asked.  
  
She sighed deeply, then answered, her musical voice even hoarser than before. "No."  
  
Dylan waited for more, then spoke again. "I'm Dylan Hunt."  
  
He met those green eyes again as she said, "Galil Lundergan. I'd said 'nice to meet you,' but in this setup, I'd be lying."  
  
Dylan smiled a little. "Can you sit up?" At her nod, he dragged the pallet over next to the cell wall and helped Galil to sit on it with her back leaning against the wall. He dropped to a seat beside her, then said, "Can you fill me in? What's going on?"  
  
With a brief nod, Galil began. "I guess they became suspicious when I spoke so much to you, and then when I freed your woman friend."  
  
"Beka's free?" Dylan asked sharply.  
  
She sighed again. "Not any more. And Dylan - I don't know what kind of shape she'll be in anyway."  
  
"What do you mean?" No trace of the affable captain was left in his tone.  
  
Galil darted a look at him, then said, "Maybe I should start at the beginning."  
  
"Please do." Under the politeness rang the steel of command. 


	2. Survival Part 2

By stretching his chain out to its fullest, Tyr was able to just reach Beka's body. Concern bloomed as he took in her pale countenance, and real fear awakened when he found the remains of nearly a dozen incisions into her skull. What had they done to her? Face set in a ferocious scowl, Tyr lifted Beka as gently as possible and laid her on the pallet in his cell. For a while he sat and looked at her, absently smoothing her hair away from the incision on her temple with one large thumb. His rage grew as he counted the needle marks, lacerations at her wrists and ankles, various bruises and the incisions on her scalp.  
  
Then Beka's body began to shake. Almost imperceptible at first, the trembling intensified until it became long, convulsive shudders wracking her whole body. With a clutch of fear, Tyr lay down beside her, gathering her shaking body next to his to try to warm her. Curving his body protectively around hers, he wrapped her with one strong arm, pillowing her head on his other with his own head on his wrist. His hand splayed over her belly as he pulled her to him, trying to quell her shaking with the warmth and closeness of his body. Face set, Tyr closed his eyes and endured the terrible tremors of the woman in his arms, willing her to quiet.  
  
  
  
"I am a physician by training," Galil began, her melodic voice shaky, "with a specialization in human and alien brain functions. For the past several years, since the. death of my husband, my son Ian and I have been living quietly on Saskill, treating the various ills of the local population. But then the Szezhume came, and our lives were - completely destroyed.  
  
"The Szezhume are an engineered race that is seeking to perfect several classes of workers. Rather than relying only on genetic engineering, the species relies on a combination of genetics and physical - err - adjustments. They are particularly interested in mapping, and then duplicating, the brain folds of extraordinary individuals in the hopes of also duplicating their skills.  
  
"Unfortunately, the Szezhume had -- heard of my research, mine and my husband's, in the area of brain topography. For several years after my husband's death, I did very little new research, concentrating on my practice and on my son, instead. Last year, however, I published a new paper, and the Szezhume used that to track me down.  
  
"When they got here. let's just say the negotiations for my services were not pleasant, but I was able to resist them until they made me an offer I could not refuse. They took my son, Ian." Here, her voice started to really fall apart, and Dylan moved to put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she buried her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled as she finished. "And now I'm afraid they're going to kill him." Harsh sobs shook her frame, and Dylan patted her shoulder gently.  
  
  
  
Eventually, the tremors died down, and Beka slid into a more relaxed state of unconsciousness. Loosening his hold only a little, Tyr continued lying beside her, encircling her with his warmth and strength.  
  
  
  
After letting her cry for a while, Dylan spoke again. "So the Szezhume have been forcing you to work for them? What have you done? And why did they want us?"  
  
Galil gulped as she tried to get her voice under control. "I have been mapping the brains of unusual and highly skilled humans. Carefully, so as not to kill them in the process. And you're here because they're interested in piloting skills."  
  
"Beka," Dylan said, on a note of enlightenment.  
  
"Beka," she confirmed flatly.  
  
  
  
This time the trembling fit seemed even more violent, and as Tyr held onto her he began to truly fear for her survival. What, he wondered again, could they have done to her to cause this? Holding the slim form whose trembling seemed almost too violent to endure, Tyr frowned fiercely. Deliberately, he positioned his bound leg so that he could quickly snap the chain securing him to the wall. No matter how successful the purple- skinned freaks had been at subduing him before, this time, he vowed, he would fight to keep Beka from them. His jaw was tight with resolve as he held on to her.  
  
  
  
"So, you're telling me that the Szezhume captured us so they could get Beka, and you performed some kind of surgery on her brain?" The captain's question was not a friendly one, and he sounded horrified at the end of it.  
  
"Yes," Galil confirmed, head drooping. "Yes, I did, Mr. Hunt. I had no choice. They have Ian. My surgery didn't permanently hurt her, though. The only thing is."  
  
".Is?" Dylan prompted.  
  
"Well, she seemed to be having some kind of reaction to the drugs I was giving her. That's why I freed her in the first place."  
  
"What kind of reaction?"  
  
"Some kind of toxicity problem. Has she had some negative experience with drugs?"  
  
"Yes," said Dylan, flatly.  
  
"Well, Mr. Hunt, I'm not sure exactly what will happen to her from here. She and your other friend are on their way off planet - where and why, I don't know. But there was definitely some sort of drug interaction, I'm afraid. I'm very sorry."  
  
There was a silence for a long moment, then Dylan sighed, rubbed his eyes and said, "Captain."  
  
She darted a questioning glance at him out of tear-drenched eyes, and he clarified. "I am Captain Hunt. But you can call me Dylan."  
  
Galil nodded, too lost in misery to respond. After a while he said, "OK, so, now you're going to help me figure out a way out of here, right, Galil?"  
  
With a child-like sniff, she nodded, then ducked her head again. "OK.Dylan." Despite his anger, he marveled again at the clear green color of her eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
When the grating of the key into the lock came again, Tyr steadied himself and pulled, with a smooth strong jerk, on the chain fastening his leg to the wall. At first even his strength made no difference on the metal; Tyr inhaled deeply and pulled again, focusing his might on the recalcitrant binding. With a ping, the chain separated at the cuff, just as the fire of a nerve disruptor caught him again. His last thought was an incandescent rage at being unable to help Beka, then all was dark again. Neither he nor Beka stirred as their bodies were hefted down the corridors and into a transport.  
  
  
  
  
  
For a long while, Rommie could hear nothing from the surface of the planet Saskill. Mostly agricultural, the planet, according to Rommie's most recent data, was settled by a mixture of different species. A few ships orbited the planet, ships of an unusual design that matched some ships that had been orbiting Wormhole Drift, but that was the only thing moving about the sleepy little planet. One of the ships suddenly departed in a flame of acceleration, but there was nothing unusual in such routine comings and goings. Even the ships' similarities to those at Wormhole might be coincidence.  
  
"Trance?" Harper's voice had the edge it got when he was particularly stressed. "What now?"  
  
Trance eyed him for a moment, then sighed a little, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know, Harper. I'm pretty sure Dylan is down there somewhere, but I don't know how we can help unless--."  
  
"Hold on, here's something happening!" Rommie interrupted. Trance and Harper both rushed to their stations, focused in the planet's surface.  
  
  
  
  
  
The familiar sensation of entering Slipstream aroused Tyr from his place on the rough floor of another cell. For a moment, after he pushed his upper body off the floor, he paused, his locks hanging, while the world did a slow roll around him. Was this the ship's movement or some lingering effect from being shot twice with a nerve disruptor? Tyr wasn't sure; he shook his head slightly to try to clear it, then pushed himself up to a sitting position.  
  
The first thing he saw was Beka, lying prone a few feet from him. With a rush, the past hours came back to him, and Tyr crawled swiftly over to see how she was faring. So far as he could tell, the shaking that had so concerned him had not returned, but she was still very pale and showed no sign of regaining consciousness.  
  
Tyr sat back for a moment as he considered things. They were in Slipstream, so obviously he and Beka had been moved from the planet. Why? Had they - whoever they had been - accomplished what they needed with the strange surgery on Beka's head? And where was Dylan? Tyr contemplated these questions for a moment, and then, with a brief shake of his head, dismissed them as currently unproductive. Time now to learn as much as possible about their current surroundings.  
  
As he prowled the length and breadth of their cage, Tyr was relieved to find his physical situation much improved. He was only limping a little as he surveyed the enclosure, concluding that they were no longer in a space designed by the aliens that had made his former cell. For one thing, the metals and design used were very different. And this cell had primitive sanitation faculties, and a smaller door to pass items between the cell and the hall - most likely food and other supplies. A longer-term holding pen, Tyr had to believe.  
  
But if that was so, why was it on a starship? And where were they headed? Frustrated at the lack of answers, Tyr returned to Beka's side to lay himself down again. If he could do nothing else, he would rest, so he was ready for whatever opportunity presented itself for escape. Tyr turned toward Beka, checking again on her well-being, and closed his eyes.  
  
  
  
Some time later, Beka awoke. At first, before the pain and exhaustion caught up with her, she drifted, not particularly concerned about her surroundings or situation. Gradually, she became aware of a presence beside her. She turned her head to find him sprawled out along side her, his head pillowed on one brawny arm and that glorious mane spilled carelessly around him. Still in that dreamlike state, she reached out one hand toward him. Absently, she noted its unsteadiness as she put two fingers, gently, on the clipped beard that framed his mouth. Luscious mouth, she corrected herself dreamily, smiling.  
  
At the touch of her fingers, his eyes snapped open, and they were frozen for a moment in an intimate tableau. The dreaminess persisted, and Beka felt her smile grow until it reflected, unguarded, the feelings she had been hiding from him. For just a second, a precious moment that lingered as fragile as a soap bubble, she looked at him with the affection and desire she had come to feel for him openly in her gaze. She saw his eyes widen under the impact of that look. An expression leapt into his own gaze in response, a heated and intent look that she had never before seen from him. This, then, was the lion in passion, she thought, still insulated from reality by the lingering effects of the drug on her system.  
  
Her own look heated in return, her eyes turning suddenly slumberous. Slowly, she put her tongue out to moisten suddenly dry lips, and the slight dilation of his pupils in response to her provocation pleased her. Again they froze, motionless except for the pulsing of their feelings. Beka was breathless as she lay, ensnared by the intensity of his gaze. The sudden clash of the door beyond their cell walls opening was an unpleasant and jarring intrusion. The bubble popped, and despite their peril Beka took a moment to mourn it, wondering if it would ever return.  
  
The Ogami who entered alongside the aliens from the planet looked vaguely memorable to Beka, and Tyr's low growl confirmed her sense of familiarity. Beka looked on, still dazed, as Tyr rose lithely to his feet and began conversing through the bars with the strange-looking creatures in what she supposed must be their dialect. As the argument continued, Beka allowed the unfamiliar syllables to wash over her, watching and admiring the flex of muscles in Tyr's strong throat as his voice rose. The louder the voices got, the more distant they seemed to Beka, until a strange buzzing noise drowned them all out, and the next thing she knew was the now-familiar darkness as her consciousness faded.  
  
  
  
"So, the first thing you should know is, they have two points of vulnerability based on their physiognomy." Dylan eyed his cellmate, brows raised, as he waited for her to continue. "First, their knees are structurally weak, and a good swift kick in the kneecap should disable them. They are careful to guard against that, however. Second, the elongated structure of their spinal column should makes them particularly susceptible to blows just there," she gestured to a point on the back of his neck, "if you can hit it just right."  
  
Dylan nodded.  
  
"You've seen that they're pretty good at hand to hand, but I think you could defeat more of them if you fight in, close to them. That'll keep you out of range of their longest, most powerful blows."  
  
Dylan looked speculative at her words, then said, "And you're expecting me to fight them."  
  
"Well," her voice trailed off, then continued, "I do have one idea about avoiding that, but I wanted you to be prepared. No matter how much I hate these guys, I am not strong enough to beat them physically. You are, and if we get caught you'll probably end up fighting them."  
  
"So, let's don't get caught."  
  
"My thoughts exactly, but Dylan, we ARE going to rescue Ian. There is no other alternative." Her voice was fierce as she spoke, and she eyed him challengingly.  
  
Dylan was already nodding, however, by the time she finished. "Yes, if there's any way we can do it, we will rescue your son. Now what's your idea?"  
  
"Well, behind this block of cells is an access hall. You must have wondered about sanitation and food--"  
  
"Particularly food, by this point," Dylan interjected.  
  
Galil looked conscious-stricken for a moment. "Of course. Dylan I'm so sorry--"  
  
He interrupted again. "Never mind. Continue."  
  
She swallowed for a moment, then went on. "I think we could probably break through the cell wall here and get access to that corridor. This area here," she pointed to a square of blocks, "is the area that opens to allow food to be passed into the cells."  
  
"You think we can break through solid stone blocks?"  
  
"Well, that's the thing, Dylan, they aren't solid stone blocks here. I think you could get through it."  
  
"All right, then - I'll try." With that, Dylan moved as close to the wall where he was tethered as possible, gathered his strength, then broke his ankle shackle with a strong kick eerily similar to Tyr's move to free himself. Dylan's fetter broke, tearing at his skin as it grudgingly released him. His face spasmed briefly at the pain, then, setting it aside, he ran across the cell and let fly another kick directly at the center of the area that Galil had indicated.  
  
The thud as the blow landed sounded amazingly loud, but also hollow, and the stone façade gave perceptibly beneath his blow. With a deep breath, Dylan tried again, aiming his foot directly at the indent he'd already made. The rock crumbled away at the force of his kick, making an opening nearly as large as his shoulder span. One more kick and he was all the way through.  
  
Behind the stone was a primitive locking gate, but this one was far less sturdy than the main cell gate. With a few more hammering kicks, prompting nervous looks from Galil at the clangs that rang through the cell, Dylan broke the lock and the gate flew open. Cocking one eyebrow, he turned to her. "After you," he said with an elegant wave of his hand.  
  
Galil rolled her eyes slightly as she darted though the opening. Without any hesitation, she turned left and began jogging through the hall, trying to make her footfalls as soft as possible. With Dylan by her side, she navigated a tortuous set of cross-tunnels, weaving back and forth until he had some doubt that he could find his way back to their cell unaided.  
  
Finally, as every cell in his body was urging him to haste, she came to a large door. Here she stopped, and, putting her ear to it, began listening intently. When Dylan would have spoken she held up an urgent hand to silence him.  
  
What she heard apparently satisfied her, and with a careful hand she reached up to open the door.  
  
  
  
The next time Beka came to consciousness, she was lying clasped in Tyr's arms. Even though her back was to him, she was certain it was he; she'd felt the warmth and hardness of the body pressed against hers in hand-to- hand too often to mistake it. This time, the dreamy separateness was missing from her brain, and her eyes widened as she took in the implications of her position.  
  
Why was Tyr - Tyr of all people - holding her as she rested? She vaguely remembered waking up beside him before, but this was different. What was going on?  
  
For a while, she lay absolutely still and wondered about her situation, then she succumbed to the growing ache in her head and lifted her hand to her temple, groaning a little despite her efforts at stoicism.  
  
The body behind her stirred. "Beka?" came the deep voice, grating slightly.  
  
"I think so, but did you get the registration of the ship that spaced me?" she quipped, trying to keep things light.  
  
Tyr ignored that remark. Moving away from her back - No, don't leave, a tiny unbidden part of her pleaded - he crawled around until he could study her face. Beka felt her color rise a little as she met those concerned dark eyes.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Umm.I've felt better," she responded with massive understatement. Actually she really did feel as though she'd been spaced - or at best, beaten and mauled. Her head hurt, her wrists and ankles hurt, and her whole body was wracked with a punishing sort of weariness. Thinking about that for a moment, Beka gave a puzzled frown. "What did happen to me, anyway?"  
  
Tyr shook his head. "I am not sure. All I know is this: when we all came to on that planet, you were strapped to a table with medical equipment all around you. It seemed obvious that some sort of medical procedure was intended. Dylan and I fought as hard as we could, but we did not succeed in preventing them from. doing whatever they did to your head. After whatever that was, you were put in the same cell with me. You had had some kind of surgery, been restrained against your will, and I believe you had been drugged."  
  
Beka felt her eyes widen as Tyr spoke of drugs. "More drugs? Did they seem to - err - affect me?"  
  
Tyr's eyes were grave as he met hers. "Yes," he said simply.  
  
Beka closed her eyes and turned away. "Damn," she said, heartfelt. "I didn't need that."  
  
Tyr was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Hopefully, the worst is already over. This is the first time you've been - lucid."  
  
"You mean I've been conscious before and not lucid?" She looked at him, troubled. "I'm sorry, Tyr."  
  
Tyr's smile was amazingly gentle. "No need." For a moment, their eyes met, and Beka felt as though she was trembling on the brink of some enormous shift, some change so profound that it frightened her at a level nearly primal. With a wrench, she tore her gaze from his, instinctively resisting that fundamental change. When she risked a look back at him she was taken aback to find his cheekbones accentuated by his trademark hidden grin. In his eyes she surprised a very masculine smile, one she had never seen before.  
  
Beka's brows drew together, but she decided to focus on her next question. "Where are we, Tyr? What happened after I ended up in your cell?"  
  
"The creatures from the planet used a nerve disruptor and we awoke on this ship. Apparently, the Ogami had some interest in meeting up with me, and you seem to be along for the ride."  
  
Beka was horrified. "The Ogami? That can't be good." Tyr simply shrugged, wordless. "And Dylan?"  
  
Again Tyr shrugged. "I haven't seen him since we arrived on that planet."  
  
Beka frowned, troubled. "I don't like this, Tyr. I hope Dylan's OK, and I am in no mood to be somebody's weird medical experiment any more."  
  
Tyr smiled a little, obviously - if uncharacteristically - trying to comfort. "I know, Beka. I know."  
  
  
  
The knees of the Szezhume were very vulnerable. Dylan had to acknowledge that the information he'd been given was right, even as he deplored his sudden pressing need to use it. They'd gotten undetected through the heavy metal door and into the main elevator to the above-ground level, but that was where their luck had run out.  
  
Five of the Szezhume had been walking through the corridor that Galil had picked. A patrol, Dylan's mind had handed him the analysis before he'd consciously identified them, and then they were upon him.  
  
With a low grunt, Dylan kicked out again at the third alien. Two were down, but three were left to fight, and with a sardonic corner of his mind Dylan noted that he'd been deserted by his erstwhile escort. Still, he fought with a will, hoping to free himself and find out where Tyr and Beka had been taken.  
  
A vicious blow from behind rattled his teeth, and Dylan swung to face the new threat. He felt himself tiring rapidly, but with a grim strength of will he held on, ready to launch another attack. He was delighted to see the woman Galil back with him, and slightly amused to see her take out the third alien with a blow to the back of its neck with what looked to be a cooking pan of some type.  
  
Dylan whirled back to the other two aliens, and disabled one with a kneecap blow. As Galil moved in to finish off the alien who had just fallen, Dylan punched the last alien in the stomach, and then in the back of the neck as it bent forward. Panting slightly, Dylan leaned his hands on his thighs for a brief rest.  
  
"C'mon!" Galil said, her voice urgent. Using the back of his hand, Dylan wiped blood from his mouth and lurched to follow her. She swung around and nearby corner, and as quickly darted back out with a young boy in her arms.  
  
"Ian, I presume?"  
  
"Yeah, but let's worry about intros later, OK? Let's get moving!"  
  
Dylan followed her at as fast a pace as he could manage.  
  
  
  
Beka began to feel marginally better as a little time passed. With Tyr's help, she managed first to sit, and then, despite his objection, to stand, swaying in place. She shook her head a little to try and clear it, then winced at that obvious mistake. Tyr, watching her, was frustrated by her persistence in pushing herself, but felt the familiar - if unwilling - admiration of the will and guts she displayed.  
  
When she was steadier on her feet, Beka walked slowly around the cell, unconsciously retracing Tyr's earlier examination. Stopping by the door, she stooped to look carefully at the lock; the head-down position made her so dizzy she had to grab the bars of the door to stay upright. Tyr reached a hand out to steady her, but pulled it back as she turned to glare at him. Obviously, he reflected, she did not welcome his help.  
  
Beka made the circuit of their cell again, this time looking up as she walked around. After the second trip, she focused on the cell corners, looking carefully at them. When she'd finished her mysterious examination, she sat on the ground, hunched over in a very awkward position. Tyr, puzzled, walked around to face her. He was startled to find her unbuttoning her shirt, and withdrew quickly at her snapped, "Privacy, please!"  
  
After a few intriguing squirms, Beka made a faint clink that sounded like metal on metal. Even more puzzled, Tyr waited, eyes glued to Beka's back, until she staggered back to her feet and shot him a look of mingled mischief and triumph. In her hands, incredibly, was what looked very much like a lock pick. Tyr's identification was confirmed when Beka crossed to the cell door and, straining to reach, put the pick in the lock of the door.  
  
An agonizing couple of minutes followed, as Beka, with her arm outstretched as far as possible, struggled to manipulate the picks enough to get the cell unlocked. Tyr watched with concern as her complexion grew paler, but her unlocking the door was a matter of survival for both of them. Once, he began to offer to try it himself - he, too, had some experience with unlocking recalcitrant doors with unorthodox methods - but he got the same glare he'd gotten the last time he offered assistance, so, with some difficulty, he kept quiet.  
  
Finally, the "ping" of the lock rollers dropping into place sounded loudly in the cell. For a moment, Beka sagged in relief, weariness etched in her countenance. At some level that Tyr didn't even want to acknowledge, pride and a sharp concern for her warred. Then, with another obvious effort of will, Beka straightened. She pushed the cell door open and, with an ironic wave of her hand, ushered him from it. A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, despite the urgency of the situation, as he made his way out into the alien ship.  
  
  
  
A loud klaxon alarm began sounding as Galil led them at a run toward a field filled with spaceships. Aliens poured from nearby buildings, and Dylan's heart sank and he took in the display of personnel. Even though they were closer to the ships, how could they hope to steal one in the time required? The situation was clearly desperate, and Dylan fervently trusted that Galil had something more up her sleeve.  
  
  
  
Aboard the Andromeda, Rommie's scanners were able to pierce the atmosphere and get a pretty good fix on the field. The flurry of internal and ship-to- planet communications that had first alerted Rommie originated at the airfield, and she honed her monitoring in on the activity there. Harper's heart sank as he recognized the limping figure of Dylan nearly surrounded by a large group of purple-skinned aliens. An absent corner of his mind made a note of the similarity of the skin tone's to the color Trance had once sported, but for now, more urgent matters consumed his attention.  
  
"Rommie, planetary fighters, now!"  
  
Rommie shut her eyes for a moment, then reported, "Four Phoenix fighters launched. Planetary ETA four minutes."  
  
"Rommie, that's not fast enough. Can you do something to distract them from Dylan?"  
  
Rommie shut her eyes again, and opened them to say, "Missile away. ETA fifty three seconds."  
  
"You're not going to hit anything are you?" Harper sounded abruptly concerned, but he rolled his eyes a little to acknowledge the seeming stupidity of that question when both Rommie and Trance turned to stare at him incredulously. "I mean, hit anything significant?"  
  
"I've targeted an open field about 2 kilos from them."  
  
"Good." Harper's voice was full of relief as he turned back to the viewscreen.  
  
"I hope that's fast enough," said Trance, worry clear in her voice as they watched the alien figures move in on Dylan.  
  
  
  
Tyr was exceptionally good at skulking for such a big man, Beka thought wryly as she followed him. They'd been free for a couple of minutes and had discovered that the ship was fairly large. They'd ducked into passageways a couple of times to avoid approaching footsteps, but had so far avoided any direct confrontation. To Beka's way of thinking, this meant the ship was probably not too heavily crewed, and their chances of taking her had gone up. When she expressed that view to her companion, however, she was met only by a quirk of the eyebrows.  
  
When they came to the next corridor, Beka indicated that she would take one branch and Tyr should take the other. She met his darkling look with raised eyebrows. Tyr shook his head emphatically; putting his mouth next to her ear he breathed, "We need to stay together!" with unusual emphasis.  
  
Beka felt a flash of impatience. She was no weak female who needed to rely on a crew member, no matter how strong and capable the man in question. With an equally emphatic shake of her head, she motioned him down one corridor, turned on her heel and marched down the other.  
  
  
  
Tyr watched her go with the same mixed feelings as before. He admired her fierce independence, but still, her color even now was not good. With a quick shake of his head he went the direction she had indicated.  
  
  
  
When Galil stumbled, Dylan knew they were in trouble. The running aliens were seconds from them; if they chose to fire Dylan knew it would all be over very quickly. With a strong arm he wrenched Galil back to her feet; he heard her gasping sob as she hoisted her son in her arms again, but then it was too late. They were surrounded on every side by a hoard of the purple-skinned aliens, and Dylan's heart sank as he took in the savage purpose on every face. Putting Galil behind him with a smooth shove, Dylan turned to face the most menacing alien.  
  
  
  
Sounds of fighting carried a long way in the ships' corridor, and Beka's heart sank as she heard it. A faint shrilling that sounded like some type of alarm also rang through the passageway. Abandoning caution, she turned back the way she had come and went after Tyr as quickly as possible.  
  
But others were also drawn to the sound of the fighting, and Beka had gone only a short distance when she found herself in the middle of a fight of her own. Two of the purple skinned aliens erupted from a passageway just behind her; at the sound of their footsteps she whirled and let fly one of the kicks that Tyr had so painstakingly drilled into her. Aiming for the alien's thigh, she connected squarely with its kneecap, but this turned out to be a good thing as the creature's knee broke with an audible crack and it sank to the floor in front of her.  
  
Beka, eyes wide at her unexpected success, turned to square with the other, and the fight was on. For many minutes she feinted, dodged, and kicked, unwilling to get close enough to the strange being to actually land a punch. For its part, the alien seemed equally wary of her, and even though she was really pushing her body with the effort required to fight, the alien seemed reluctant to mount an all-out challenge. Beka was tiring, though, and things might have turned out different if the ship had not suddenly bucked and turned so quickly that its anti-grav and stabilization units were unable to keep up. Beka and the alien were tossed to the floor, and in the ensuing confusion Beka was able to land a fierce kick on the back of the alien's head. Soundlessly, it crumpled to the ground, joining its colleague who had apparently fainted from the pain of its injuries.  
  
Picking herself up from a heap on the floor, Beka dusted off with unsteady hands and, amid other drastic turns and swoops from the ship, alternately walked and crawled down the corridor toward Tyr.  
  
  
  
The explosion drew cheers from the Com deck of the Andromeda, where Harper, Rommie and Trance were locked on the visual monitors of Saskill's surface. For a moment, it had seemed that Dylan - along with the woman and child who were apparently traveling with him - was in big trouble, but the loud crashing roar of the missile that Rommie had fired off successfully distracted the entire group. Rommie could focus closely enough on Dylan that they all saw his assessing look, the squinted eyes into the sky, and the dawning hope that the missile had come from his ship.  
  
"Do it again, Rommie!" Harper urged. "Let's keep those guys off balance until the fighters can get in there."  
  
With a nod, Rommie launched another one. "ETA 48 seconds, Harper." At Trance's quick look she answered the unspoken question, "We're closer."  
  
Trance nodded. "Good, Rommie. Let's keep them guessing down there."  
  
All three trained their eyes on the screen as the second missile flamed through the planet's surface.  
  
  
  
Taking advantage of the babble of discussion from the alien hoard surrounding them, Dylan put his lips next to Galil's ear and said, "I think that's my ship. And I bet she's got a shuttle on her way here."  
  
Just as softly, Galil replied, "I have the authorization codes for that bird over there if you can get us there."  
  
Dylan measured the distance to the ship-to-surface shuttle Galil had indicated and decided that he probably could, especially if Rommie had another missile up her sleeve. As if in answer to his thought, the streak of another projectile tore through the sky, scattering the aliens even before it landed. This time the crash was closer, and in the ensuing confusion Dylan pulled Galil and Ian onto the small ship. With a slap of his hand he closed the entry hatch on the cacophony outside.  
  
"Can you fly her?"  
  
Galil shook her head. "Probably not nearly as quickly as you could."  
  
"OK, enter the codes and let's get out of here."  
  
Without any further conversation, Galil spoke the codes, and Dylan fired up the ship just as blows on the hull made it obvious that at least some of the Szezhume had figured out where they'd disappeared to. With a roar, Dylan blasted into the atmosphere, bound for the ship he knew in his heart was waiting for him.  
  
  
  
By the time Beka made it down the corridor to what turned out to be the bridge of the ship, she'd passed more than ten bodies and the evidence of a great deal of fighting. The ship continued to writhe and buck as she got closer to the bridge, and the jarring sounds of combat and shrilling alarms got louder. Kicking herself for not thinking of this sooner, Beka briefly searched the next body she came across for a weapon, but she found nothing. With a quick shrug she dashed off toward the sounds of conflict.  
  
The temperature of the ship was beginning to heat up, and as Beka entered the bridge her experienced eye quickly told her that the ship was in unrestrained entry into the atmosphere of a planet. With a clutch of relief she saw that Tyr, off to her left, was bloodied but still fighting fiercely against the two Ogami. No other aliens were in view, and Beka, heart racing at the new threat posed by uncontrolled atmosphere entry, quickly moved to the pilot's chair. Though the controls were unfamiliar, Beka was an experienced pilot; she soon found the brake thrusters and engaged them to slow the ship's entry into the unidentified planet's atmosphere.  
  
The ship's stabilizers and anti-grav units had apparently been damaged by the period of uncontrolled re-entry, so the ship's abrupt swerve as the braking units kicked in toppled all three of the contestants in the corner of the bridge. Beka's eyes swept the pilot's chair urgently for something to use as a weapon; another severe jar and the shrilling of additional alarms convinced her, however, that she needed to keep on top of things in the pilot's realm. Tyr would have to deal with the Ogami alone.  
  
Frantically, Beka's fingers danced over the controls to the ship, trying to straighten her course and get her acceleration under control. Even with brake thrusters firing the ship was still going too fast; Beka's eyes widened as the viewscreen cleared in front of her and she could see the velocity with which the ship was approaching the planet's surface.  
  
Her entire being was focused on pulling the ship up, slowing her angle of descent and her speed. She fired brake thrusters again and she poured over the surface of the navigation computer, entering and refining angles, learning by trial and error. Gradually, the ship slowed, but they were by then so close to the planet's surface that Beka could make out individual trees. Ahead, a copper-colored lake gleamed in the light of the twin suns that Beka could now see.  
  
With a gulp, Beka steered toward that gleaming pool, hoping to skim the ship along the water's surface and avoid an all-out crash. "Brace yourselves!" she shouted, knowing that Tyr was otherwise occupied and probably could do no such thing.  
  
The lake came up beneath them, faster and faster, and Beka labored to pull the nose of the ship up so she wouldn't cartwheel when she first hit the resistance of the water. Whether it was the unfamiliar nav computer, a burst of wind, or a miscalculation was unclear, but as the ship touched the water its nose was pulled underneath. Without any warning, the ship was thrown over and over and over again, spinning along the surface of the water like a skipping stone. It finally came to rest near the far shore of the massive lake. Slowly, it began to sink. 


	3. Survival Part 3

Dylan thought he had never found the sight of the Andromeda a sweeter one. Though their flight had taken only a short time, Ian, the son of Galil, was clearly terrified, and his sobs were wrenching to hear. Galil seemed to be crying along with him, and Dylan spared as many minutes as he could trying to comfort them while flying the unfamiliar shuttle.  
  
After a few tries, Dylan managed to figure out how to operate the communications equipment. His hail to the Andromeda was met with obvious relief.  
  
"Dylan! You made it; thank the Divine!"  
  
"I didn't know you believed in the Divine, Harper," Dylan said.  
  
"All those years of Rev must've rubbed off on me."  
  
"Care to open a hangar door for this bucket of bolts?"  
  
"You got it, Boss man. Hangar Door Three opening now. And Dylan? Good to have you back."  
  
"I echo that sentiment," came the measured voice of his ship. Dylan grinned a little at the relief underlying those tones; he, too, was glad to be back in command.  
  
After he landed the little shuttle, he turned to Galil, who had just succeeded in calming her son, with a warm smile. "So, I got an exciting tour of your home; are you two ready for one of mine?"  
  
Galil shuddered a little as she said in a husky voice, "Saskill was never really my home, but I am eager to see yours." Turning to her son, she said, "Ian, we've been too busy to introduce you two before, but I want you to meet Captain Hunt, who has helped us escape from the Szezhume."  
  
Ian's smile was wavery but bright. "Hiya, Captain!" The beginnings of hero worship already shone in his eyes.  
  
"Dylan," said the captain. "Call me Dylan." With a warm smile, he invited both of them onto the Andromeda.  
  
  
  
Beka opened bleary eyes as soon as the ship stopped moving. Now her head really hurt, and she'd collected an impressive array of additional bruises during the ship's tumbles, as well. Looking at the dimming viewscreen now over her head, she was just able to make out the lapping of waves against the hull of the ship. Uh-oh, she thought. Better get out of here pronto. But where's Tyr?  
  
Urgency shrilling through her, Beka groped her way to hands and knees and began to quickly look for her shipmate. She found him crumpled on the floor at the other end of the room, the body of an Ogami right beside him. With a quick flood of fear at the strange bonelessness of his position, she crawled over to him. Sticky blood was flowing from a gash on his forehead, mixing with his braids, and several other gashes and cuts showed through rips in his clothing. What a time for him to forgo his hated chain mail, she thought ruefully, but the amusement passed quickly. They had to get out of there.  
  
"Tyr," she said softly, reaching over to shake him. "Tyr, wake up. The ship is sinking, and we've got to get out." For a moment longer she tried to move him, then she stopped to think. Abruptly, Beka changed gears and decided that the best thing to do was to try to get a hatch open before water pressure made that impossible, then come back and rouse Tyr.  
  
Using the walls for support, Beka rose unsteadily to her feet and lurched off the bridge. The nearest hatch she could recall seeing during their explorations was just off the main hall; ignoring the bodies still lying in the corridor she made her way as quickly as possible to the exit.  
  
Operating the controls should have been simple, but when she pushed for door open instead of the flood of light she was expecting the door gave a tortured groan and water began gushing in through the break in the seal. Damn, she thought. This one must already be under water. For a moment, she tried to push the door open manually, but it was just as she had feared: the pressure of the water on the hull made it impossible to get the door open.  
  
With a dismayed look at that hatch, Beka ran off to find another as quickly as possible. As the ship sank, one end had begun rising, and Beka consciously ran uphill to try to find an access hatch that was not already underwater. With a rising sense of panic Beka noticed the water flowing down the corridor as she dashed uphill; obviously the hatch she'd tried to open was not the only source of the leak.  
  
Beka tried corridor after corridor until she was finally successful at locating another hatch. This one, to her relief, opened immediately, and she took a brief second to stick her head out and look at their surroundings.  
  
What she saw reassured her a little; the shore was fairly close; if she could just rouse Tyr they could probably swim for it, provided there were no strange predators in the coppery waters around them. Beka couldn't prevent a shudder as she thought of the elements she was about to face. Planets, she thought with loathing. I hate planets - and we're about to be stuck on one that I know nothing about. Yeecch.  
  
Racing back the to bridge took precious minutes, and Beka was momentarily terrified that the water level might already have closed over Tyr's unconscious head. The water hadn't covered his face, but it was a close thing. Completely disregarding the temperature of the fluid, Beka dropped to her knees beside Tyr and raised his head in her arms, those extravagant locks spilling over her chest and floating on the water surrounding them.  
  
"Tyr." This time her voice was louder and more urgent. "C'mon, guy, wake up. Your survival instincts should be kicking in about now!" Still no response, so she clasped his head to her chest with one arm and began lightly slapping his cheeks with the other hand. "Come ON Tyr, you have to wake up! You're too heavy for me to carry!"  
  
Finally, finally she seemed to be getting through. Tyr's eyelashes fluttered, and then he opened dazed eyes. At first he seemed very confused; his lashes fluttered closed again and he turned his face into her chest, nuzzling into her softness. For just a moment, despite herself, Beka's arms tightened around Tyr's head, cradling him to her. Then urgency reasserted itself, and she moved quickly to awaken him.  
  
Shaking him slightly, Beka said, "Tyr, we have to escape, NOW! The ship is going down!" Tyr's eyes blinked open again, and he finally seemed to become aware of their peril. The water level was perceptibly rising now, and waves sloshed over all of his prone body, up to Beka's waist. Tyr pulled away from Beka and sat up, blinking rapidly.  
  
  
  
"Did you get a door open?" He hoped his voice did not reveal his immediate panic.  
  
"Yeah, it's this way." Beka got immediately to her feet, missing Tyr's involuntary expression of relief and gratitude. Having drowned once, Tyr was hoping never to repeat that experience. He struggled to arise and follow her, his head still swimming from the blow that had knocked him out. A strong, slim hand fastened over his wrist and pulled him to his feet.  
  
"This way," she repeated, and she sloshed off down the corridor still pulling him by that clasp on the wrist.  
  
"Can we salvage anything?"  
  
"I don't think we have time." As if to underline her remark, the ship suddenly lurched, and all the internal lights went out. Beka gasped, and Tyr felt his heart sink, but they soon found that enough light from the hatch she had opened penetrated the corridor so they could still see. With unwavering determination, Beka ploughed on through the ever-deepening waters, pulling the groggy Nietzschean behind her.  
  
  
  
Dylan brought Galil and Ian straight to the Com deck. For him, it was another homecoming, another safe return against the prevailing odds. Despite his concerns about Beka and Tyr, Dylan was conscious of a deep sense of contentment. He smiled warmly at Rommie as he took his accustomed place near the pilot's chair; Harper and Trance, also on the Deck, looked relieved to see him and very interested in his guests. He was pleased to find them all there so he could make his introductions all at once.  
  
"Rommie, Harper, Trance, I'd like you to meet the woman who helped me escape, Galil Lundergan, and her son Ian." Galil smiled a little shyly at the threesome, as Ian, briefly overwhelmed at the attention, buried his face in his mother's body.  
  
"Hello," said Trance gravely.  
  
"Heya, pretty lady!" Dylan rolled his eyes as Harper greeted Galil predictably.  
  
"Welcome," said Rommie. "Dylan, shall I find them some quarters?"  
  
"Yes, Rommie, please do. Then, Galil, I'm hoping you'll meet me so we can start to figure out how to track down Beka and Tyr. I don't like the thought of them out there alone somewhere."  
  
"Sure, Dylan, so long as Rommie?" she checked with the AI to ensure that she'd gotten that right, and in response to Rommie's brief nod, repeated, "Rommie will show me how to find you. This ship is a beauty, but she sure is large!"  
  
"Why thank you," Rommie replied, drawing a puzzled look from Galil.  
  
"Rommie is an AI, the avatar for this ship," Dylan clarified.  
  
Galil's eyes widened, and she was clearly fascinated by that proposition. "Wow! What genius made you?"  
  
Dylan rolled his eyes again as he heard this disingenuous question; even Trance smiled a little as they waited for his response.  
  
"Genius? Genius! Why, thank you! It's nice to finally get the recognition I've always deserved. Seamus Zelazny Harper, certified genius here, at your service - and I do mean service." Galil's smile turned indulgent as she heard him make that little speech; it was clear to Dylan she she'd taken Harper's measure very quickly and accurately.  
  
"Always glad to give credit where credit is due," she responded lightly. "Rommie - shall we?"  
  
The avatar guided the woman and her small son off the Com deck, leaving Harper open-mouthed on the way to his next sally.  
  
  
  
Tyr seemed to revive slightly as they reached the open hatch. With a deepening frown, he looked around, clearly gauging the time left before the ship actually sank. It wasn't much, Beka was certain as she watched the strange, coppery water creep higher over the hull. All the same, she wasn't looking forward to actually swimming in the stuff.  
  
"Beka, is there nothing we can salvage?" Tyr repeated.  
  
Beka frowned for a moment, thinking. "I guess I haven't looked around enough to know. What'd you have in mind?"  
  
"Well, I have a blaster, and my knives. Do you have a weapon?" Beka shook her head. "How about any survival gear?" Again, the headshake. Beka watched with concern as Tyr put the back of one hand to his forehead, obviously fighting off dizziness.  
  
"How about I go salvage real fast, and you wait here to give a yell when I need to be back." Beka thought she saw a flash of relief on that normally impassive countenance.  
  
"Fine. Look for blankets, food, medical supplies and more weapons."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm looking!" Beka threw the last words over her shoulder as she moved as quickly as possible back down the passage. She had not had the pleasure of drowning lately, she reflected, but even so it was strange and scary to hear the water pouring into the ship. Particularly in the near-darkness.  
  
Peering quickly into every door she encountered, Beka was able to make out enough in the rooms near the open hatch to scrounge up a couple of blankets and a basic first aid kit. The mess hall eluded her, but she found a stash of nutri-bars and snacks in one room, which she quickly rolled into the blankets.  
  
"Beka!" Tyr's shout brought her about, and she quickly began to make her way back toward the hatch. "Hurry!"  
  
"Keep your shirt on, Tyr, I'm almost there!" Her voice was breathless, she noted with a frown, but it was enough to quiet him down. He came a few steps away from the hatch as he heard her sloshing nearer; grabbing the rough bundle she'd made out of the blankets, he turned back and climbed the last few steps to the opening.  
  
"Time to go. Can you swim?"  
  
"Umm, after a fashion," she confessed.  
  
"I'll keep an eye on you, but don't grab at me if you get into trouble. I can only swim for us both if you don't panic."  
  
Beka met his eyes gravely for a moment, and nodded. She was not looking forward to this. Without another word, Tyr turned to the roiling copper waters below them and jumped from the hatch. Heart in her mouth, Beka moved to follow him.  
  
  
  
Dylan blew out a breath in frustration. "So, you have basically no idea where Beka and Tyr might be?"  
  
His tone was not particularly cordial, and Galil stiffened a bit before she answered. "I'm sorry, Dylan, but no. The Szezhume were not overly helpful in sharing any of their plans that did not involve direct orders."  
  
Dylan looked at her very directly. "And there's no other help you can give us?"  
  
It was Galil's turn to sigh, which she did while rubbing at the frown in her forehead. "Well. They were being taken just as the Szezhume decided to work on me. If the Andromeda was close enough to Saskill by then, perhaps your resident genius could deduce which ship took them and extrapolate its course?"  
  
"That's a good idea." Dylan looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Andromeda?"  
  
Galil jumped a little as the ship's hologram jumped into being. "Yes, Dylan?"  
  
"Can you and Harper go over your memory banks to identify any ship that left Saskill about an hour before you rescued us? And if you find one, can you try to track it?"  
  
"Right away." The hologram flickered out, and Dylan smiled a little at Galil's still-wide eyes. "Andromeda can appear in several forms."  
  
"So I see, Dylan," she said, dryly.  
  
Dylan was silent for another moment, then he said, "You know, I'm still lookin' for that meal I haven't had. Would you care to join me?"  
  
"Let me get Ian, and we'd love to," Galil responded. At his nod, she rose gracefully and made her way back to her new quarters to fetch her son.  
  
  
  
The drop was longer than it looked from the sinking spaceship, and the water itself significantly chillier than it had seemed within the ship. As Beka hit the surface, the breath was driven from her lungs, and it took long enough for her to reach the surface that she began to worry that she would run out of air before she ran out of water to move through. Finally, she broke through to the surface, gasping and shaking the water from her hair. She looked around immediately, and was reassured to see Tyr's dark head nearby, with one hand holding the bundle of supplies unsteadily atop it.  
  
"OK?" he asked briefly. When she nodded, he turned and struck off for shore, leaving her to marvel anew at the marvelous athleticism of the man. Beka had rather understated her swimming ability; she was pleased to find that her crawl was more than adequate to keep apace his measured movements toward shore.  
  
After about ten minute's swimming, they reached the rocky shore. The lake was smooth and placid, which was a fortunate thing as the rocks that lined its shore were jagged and treacherous. Beka collected another couple of scrapes to add to her general collection as she made her way out of the lake. The taste of the water, which she had unavoidably swallowed a few times, was unpleasantly sharp, and her stomach seemed less than happy to receive it even though she was actually quite thirsty.  
  
Beka frowned at the new worry - where would they find potable water if the lake was not? - but then she turned her attention to making it safely onto the shore. This time, when Tyr stretched out a strong hand to help her, she took it gratefully, nearly exhausted from the day's escapades.  
  
Tyr, too, seemed a little worn. Limping a bit, he set down their bundle on a boulder and, with a brief attempt at a smile in her direction, began to scope out their surroundings, blaster drawn and at the ready. Beka sank down on a nearby rock and watched him, content, for the moment, to let him take the lead.  
  
Tyr disappeared several times into the underbrush that lined the lake's edge, but he soon reappeared and systematically made his way along the shoreline back to her. Beka supposed, idly, that she needed to get moving; the air was cool enough that she was beginning to get chilly. Exhaustion warred with cold, however, and she just wasn't sure she could muster the energy to arise. Dully, she watched Tyr come nearer.  
  
  
  
Tyr's worry coalesced as he saw her blank countenance. Beka had pushed herself hard today, hard enough that she'd have been tired even if she had been whole and healthy. With the residue of the drug and surgery still stalking her, he was amazed that she was still upright. Clearly, he was going to have to find some shelter for them right away.  
  
Tyr cast a keen look up at the sky. This planet appeared to be influenced by two suns; its brightest was just setting but its second, smaller sun, bluer in color, was still going strong. No way to know the cycles of the suns, or the temperature swings that they might invoke, although the greenery looked robust enough that Tyr doubted they would face temperature extremes.  
  
Still, as the primary sun set the air was growing perceptibly colder, and he could see Beka, still in wet clothes, begin to shiver.  
  
His brief exploration had revealed a rocky ledge with a bit of an overhang a few paces into the greenery. Beyond the band of shrubs and grasses lining the lakeshore, tall trees grew, their leaves rustling in the evening breeze. Tyr decided to rely on the overhang for shelter for now, and to try to gather wood to make a fire.  
  
Gently, he said, "Beka?" She looked at him, mute, and he gave her another smile. "C'mon, let's head to our luxurious quarters."  
  
With a perceptible effort, she roused herself. "Hot and cold running water, I trust?"  
  
"Of course," he answered, offering her a hand to rise. Beka rose to her feet, leaning heavily, for a moment, on his strength. Then, taking a deep breath, she let him go, standing by sheer effort of will, he thought. He had never admired her more.  
  
Leading the way through the greenery, Tyr brought Beka and their bundle of supplies to the slight overhang that he had seen earlier. Tyr briefly fired his blaster, set on low, at the back wall and floor of the small cave to ensure that no other beings were using the same shelter; then, he turned to his shivering shipmate.  
  
"I am going to find wood for a fire. You should strip off those wet clothes and wrap in a blanket; I think I kept the inner ones pretty dry. Here's the blaster; I'll be back as soon as I can."  
  
"But, you should take the blaster. What if you run into something nasty out there?" Even as out of it as she was, Beka's voice was sharp with concern.  
  
Tyr smiled briefly at her. "I'll be fine. I've got the knives, and my weapons are built in." He snapped out his bone spurs as a demonstration, then turned and made his way swiftly toward the forest.  
  
  
  
Rommie's brows twitched together as she heard Dylan laugh merrily. What was going on in the kitchen? It was a place she rarely went, as she had no need for food, but curiosity drew her through the door.  
  
The sight that met her eyes was not one she had ever before seen. Dylan was on the floor of the combined mess and lounge with the dark-haired boy, Ian. Ian was pretending to shoot at Dylan using his finger and thumb as a blaster, and Dylan was shuddering and he took the make-believe hits. Rolling around in a pretend death agony, Dylan ambushed the little boy, sweeping his knees out from under him and catching him on the way down. Peels of giggles filled the air as Dylan tickled the boy in a ritual as old as mankind.  
  
Galil was leaning off to the side, watching the byplay with amusement, wonder and worry warring in her eyes. Rommie crossed over to join her, carefully avoiding the fight pattern of the two males. For a moment, both were silent as they watched the wrestling match. Eventually, Galil spoke. "Dylan's wonderful with children!"  
  
Rommie nodded. "I must confess to being a little surprised. I have never seen him play like this." Indeed, as Dylan's rich laugh filled the room again, it was not clear to either woman who was enjoying the contest of skills more.  
  
Galil turned to smile warmly at Rommie. "Dylan was sure you were waiting for us, you know? He was absolutely convinced you were here."  
  
Rommie smiled faintly. "Well, I always make it a policy to locate him as soon as I can if I've misplaced him."  
  
Galil laughed a little, her eyes on the tall, strong figure playing with her son. "I can see why."  
  
For a moment, Rommie closed her eyes, not reacting, then she turned suddenly to Dylan. "Dylan, Harper has some news for you. He would like you to come to the Com deck."  
  
Startled out of play mode, Dylan froze for a moment on the floor mid-growl, then he smiled a little sheepishly and rose to his feet. "Sorry, partner," he said to Ian, kneeling down briefly to get back to the boy's level. "I have to go now. Duty calls."  
  
The little boy nodded back at Dylan, very gravely. Dylan reached out and ruffled the boy's dark hair, smiled at Galil, then turned and walked with Rommie to the bridge.  
  
  
  
When Tyr got back to the overhang, he was met by the sight of Beka's clothing draped neatly over nearby bushes to dry. Arms loaded with wood and kindling, Tyr maneuvered around the bushes until he got a clear view of the small cave's interior. Beka was sprawled within, lying on one of their blankets while wrapped in another, and she seemed to be asleep. A smile touched his mouth as he noted that her slackened hand still was folded around the blaster.  
  
Moving as quietly as possible, Tyr put down the wood and cleared a place for a fire near where Beka was lying. As he carefully layered dry grasses, small twigs and logs until he had the makings of a good blaze, he took a moment to reflect thankfully on his extensive skills at roughing it. Carefully removing the blaster from Beka's limp fingers, he fired a brief shot at the tinder on low. As he'd hoped, the tinder caught, and he soon had a crackling blaze going.  
  
Tyr was very tired, and also hungry. Beka had unpacked their few belongings neatly, and Tyr fell gratefully upon a couple of the nutribars, opening them carefully to preserve their wrappers. One of the things they were most lacking, Tyr thought, was containers for carrying water or food, and he was loathe to dispose of anything that might prove useful.  
  
Tyr's own clothes had mostly dried on him by now, so after he had eaten, he stoked the fire and, taking the third blanket, rolled himself in it and lay down next to Beka. He set the blaster close at hand and settled himself down for some much-needed rest.  
  
His thoughts, before he allowed sleep to claim him, were not pleasant. He had fought his way onto the bridge of the alien ship and not had a chance to get even a hint about what system they had entered. He knew nothing about the planet they were stranded on, and they had very few resources. Also, if Beka were to become ill from the day's events, he had little with which to treat her. All in all, though they might have been worse off, the situation was unfavorable.  
  
And had Dylan survived? Had he somehow made it back to the Andromeda? If so, how would Dylan ever find them, Tyr wondered. Certainly, if he had made it back to the Andromeda, he would look, particularly, he reflected objectively, for Beka. But space was large, and a single planet hard to distinguish. Maybe Trance's odd skills would help the Andromeda locate them.  
  
Tyr gave a brief sigh, then gave himself over to sleep. There were no easy answers, and he needed the rest.  
  
  
  
"What's up Harper?" Dylan entered the Com deck at a brisk walk.  
  
"Hiya, Boss. Well, we think we've found the ship that likely had Beka and Tyr on it; this ship," he gestured to the viewscreen, "received a shuttle from the surface and then took off at about the right time. Problem is, we're so late it'll be real tough to track them through Slipstream. I can't think of anything else to try though."  
  
Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "OK, Harper, let's go for it. See if you can track them down."  
  
Harper, from the pilot's seat, nodded. "Streaming in 5, 4, 3." The Slipstream station moved to embrace him as the Andromeda made the transition into the alternative space.  
  
  
  
Trance was surprised to hear the sound of crying emanating from the kitchen. Brows drawn together, she walked swiftly into the room, wondering absently how long they would be stuck in Slipstream. She had always hated the feel of this particular mode of transportation, and changing places with her younger self had not lessened her distaste.  
  
Within the room, Ian was huddled on the floor in his mother's arms, crying as though his heart would break. Galil, trying to comfort him, was obviously struggling for self-control herself. Trance walked closer to the pair and kneeled down where the boy could see her if he choked back his sobs enough to look up.  
  
"Hiya," she said softly. Galil's eyes flicked to her, then returned to her son. Trance waited a moment, then tried again. "You seem sad. What's the matter?"  
  
After a moment, Galil answered in a slightly unsteady voice. "We're not too sure what's going on. The ship lurched and now everything feels very strange. It's kind of scary for someone who's never been in space before."  
  
Trance's eyes widened as she took that in. "You mean you've never been in space before?"  
  
"Well, I have, many years ago. But Ian never has. Why did the ship lurch?"  
  
"We went into the sliptream, that's why."  
  
"Oh, is that what's going on?" Relief dawned in Galil's eyes. "It's been so long I'd forgotten what it feels like." Galil turned back to her son. "Did you hear Trance, Ian? She said that we're in the Slipstream. Everything is going to be all right."  
  
The boy sobbed once more, then gulped, wiping his face on his mother's shirt. Looking up at Trance, he said in a quavery voice, "What's Slipstream?"  
  
"Well, Slipstream is a way to travel extra long distances in space very quickly. It's kind of a different dimension in space, you know? And not every ship can travel on the Slipstream, but Andromeda is very good at it." Trance's voice was warm and reassuring, and after another sniff, the boy calmed. "How old is he, Galil?"  
  
Always happy to discuss her son, Galil answered, "He's nearly five."  
  
"Wow, so old," Trance responded. "Listen, guys, would you like to visit hydroponics, where I grow the plants for this ship? Would you enjoy seeing that?"  
  
Ian, wiping tear-stained eyes, was heard to say that he would, so he left with Trance and his mother.  
  
  
  
Tyr awoke some eight hours later, according to his chrono. As was typical for him, he was instantly awake, but he was unsure of what had roused him. Brows drawn together, he extended his senses, straining to see, in the dim light, past the remains of their fire.  
  
It had grown perceptibly colder. Beka, he was slightly amused to note, was cuddled up against him for warmth; after a moment longer of careful listening, he shifted a little, settling her against him more comfortably and turning on his back. His hand brushed her forehead, and he frowned, assessing the heat radiating from her. This was not an ordinary nighttime warmth; she was brewing a fever of some magnitude.  
  
Tyr swore under his breath, abruptly concerned. This was exactly what he had been worried about. He had very little means for helping her through this; fervently, he hoped that her immune system was up to fighting off whatever infection was stalking her. The frown on his brow took up extended residence as he tightened his arm around her.  
  
He had almost fallen back to sleep when her violent trembling began again.  
  
*POSTED ON SS TO HERE*  
  
Slipstreaming was in imprecise science; its efficiency depended partly upon the skill of the commanding pilot, partly on the frequency with which a route was traveled, and partly upon blind luck. The same trip could take one pilot an hour, and a second, six or seven. Under Harper's competent control, the Andromeda made several jumps, following what he deduced and imagined the earlier ship's trail to be. Even given his technical gifts, however, the trip extended for several hours. Dylan, pacing the Com deck impatiently, wordlessly urged him to hurry as they made the jumps to take them to the other ship. Hopefully, they would not be too late.  
  
"Thirsty," Beka's voice was croaky and dry, and Tyr moved quickly from the log he had appropriated for a seat to help her sit up and give her a sip out of the nutribar wrappers that he'd filled with water from the lake. Beka had been asleep or unconscious for several hours since her last bout of tremors, and Tyr was hoping her body was fighting off whatever infection she had developed.  
  
Beka leaned against the hard strength of Tyr's arm and chest as she fumbled to drink from the collapsible container. Tyr watched as she managed to take several swallows, grimacing against the metallic taste. But the water agreed even less with her system this time, and she barely had time to gasp out, "Sick!" before she bowed over to the side, retching out the few swallows she had just managed to consume.  
  
Brow creased, Tyr held her while her body spasmed. When she relaxed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, he gently laid her down again on her nest of blankets.  
  
"Sorry, Tyr, think that water does not work for me." Beka's voice was very weak.  
  
"So I deduced. Beka, I have got to find you something to drink. Here's the blaster. Stay awake if you can, and I'll be back. There's got to be a source of potable water somewhere; I'll find it if I can."  
  
"Thanks." This time, Beka didn't even protest. With a brief nod, Tyr turned and ran into the woods, setting a steady pace that he could maintain for many minutes.  
  
  
  
When the Andromeda materialized out of Slipstream for the fifth time, Dylan had had enough. "Harper, where are we? And where is it that you think we're headed?"  
  
Harper, looking slightly strained from the demands of Slipstreaming, took a swig of Sparky Cola before he answered. "We're followin' a signature trail from one of those cruisers that were in orbit around Saskill. We--."  
  
Andromeda flickered to life on the viewscreens, interrupting. "Dylan, sensors indicate approaching ships, vectoring into combat format."  
  
"Identification?"  
  
"They appear to be Ogami."  
  
"Damn. Harper, evasive action. Rommie, can you fire a warning shot, give 'em something to think about while we go into Slipstream?"  
  
"Aye, sir, missile away." As always, Rommie's voice sounded cool and collected.  
  
  
  
Steam rising from the water in the small clearing that he eventually came across made Tyr frown. Another dead end. This was the third water source he'd found, and none had had water pure enough that Beka could drink it. Grimacing at the heat, Tyr knelt down, cupped his hands and took a drink.  
  
Surprisingly, the water, though unpleasantly warm, tasted far purer than the other samples he had tried. With a huff of pleased surprise, Tyr fumbled at his waist for the makeshift water pouches he had fashioned from the nutribar wrappers he'd saved.  
  
Tyr's skin was sheened with sweat, his massive chest rising and falling rapidly as he bent over the stream. He'd stripped off his shirt to form a makeshift carrying pouch, and in addition to the water packets he was carrying some fruits he had gathered along the way. Despite his success at foraging, the frown on his brow did not waver as he hastily filled the packets and sprinted from the clearing. He had to get back to Beka.  
  
  
  
The rustling in the underbrush sounded loud in the day's silence, but it did not rouse Beka. Slowly three figures crept closer to her prone body, muttering in a strange, highly-pitched tone as they began to examine her. Rough grey hands reached out and touched her skin, shifting through her hair as if searching for treasure. The strange, gibbering sounds increased in volume as the creatures grew more bold, and one darted off into the bushes to summon three of its more timid fellows.  
  
After a thorough exam, the creatures apparently concluded that the lifeless figure was somehow valuable for, grasping hold of sides of the blanket on which Beka lay, the creatures hefted her lying figure and, with a great deal of additional chatter, began to move off together into the forest. Soon, all was still and silent in the primitive campsite.  
  
  
  
"Woo-hoooo!" Harper's exuberant exclamation, though slightly muffled by the embrace of the pilot's chair, came through loudly as the Andromeda leapt into Slipstream. "We sure held those bastards off!"  
  
Dylan's expression lightened at Harper's exuberance, but his face remained grave. "Where to next, Mr. Harper, and when will we finish this?"  
  
"Ahh, Boss, I can't tell you for sure, but I'm hopin' we're comin' to the end. We've almost reached a trader system, and that may be where our Saskillion friends took Beka and Tyr. Here's hoping, anyway."  
  
"Here's hoping," Dylan agreed heavily.  
  
  
  
Trance stood beside Galil, watching Ian discover the joys of the gym adjacent to hydroponics. With a whoop, the boy ran from one end of the gym to the other, kicking Dylan's beloved basketball and trying to beat it across the floor. Trance's expression flickered as she felt the faint shudder of the ship firing a missile, then Slipstream took them again. Ian whimpered for just a moment, then turned his attention back to his ball while his mother smile bravely at him, all the while holding tight to Trance's hand.  
  
  
  
Tyr stood leaning over, bracing his hands on his thighs as his chest heaved. His eyes, dark with dismay, drank in the empty campsite again and again, as if he doubted the evidence of his senses the first several times.  
  
Where could she have gone? And, he noted, without the clothing still draped over the nearby bushes?  
  
Still breathing heavily, Tyr took several steps nearer the remains of the fire, keen gaze raking the ground where he'd left his crewmate. The ground was carpeted with needles from the nearby trees - he grimaced to think how carefully he'd piled those there, to help her rest easier - but there were patches of dirt among the debris. His careful examination revealed.pawprints of some sort? Tyr squatted to look closer, his frown growing heavier as he measured the span of the unusual tracks, and the claw imprints at the end of each toe pad.  
  
There were no traces of Beka's footprints, so Tyr was forced to conclude, with a stab of fear for her, that whoever or whatever had left the large tracks had carried her off. In a quick swipe he gathered her clothing together from the bush and stuffed it into the bundle at his waist. With no further preparation, he bent his gaze back to the forest floor and began racing along the trail left by Beka's abductors.  
  
  
  
The Andromeda shuddered slightly as it left the Slipstream behind. Ahead, her viewscreens showed a placid star system, with its little inter-stellar traffic concentrated in orbit around one slight planet.  
  
"Rommie, any of those ships the one we're tracing?" Dylan's voice was clipped.  
  
Rommie closed her eyes for a moment, then met his gaze with concern. "None of those ships match the rad signature that we've been following."  
  
"What? Rommie, scan the whole system, will ya?" Harper's voice was full of protest.  
  
"I already have, Harper. That ship is not in this system."  
  
Harper frowned for a moment, the anxiety he was feeling for Beka and - he admitted privately, for the big Uber as well - drawing his features tight. "Rommie, recheck our calculations. Did we miss a trajectory somewhere?"  
  
Rommie was silent, but Andromeda's visage flickered to life on the bridge view screens. "The calculations check out. The probability that this was the intended destination of the ship we were following is 81.2%."  
  
The puzzled frown on Harper's brow deepened. "I don't get it. Where else could the ship be? Andromeda, uhhh, provide likely alternative destinations based on trajectory probabilities."  
  
Andromeda's image was replaced by charts of three star systems. "The most likely alternate destination is here," a planet was lit up on the screen, "but the chance of this being the destination is only about 8%."  
  
For a moment, the bridge was silent, then Dylan and Harper both began to speak at once. Impatiently, Dylan gestured to Harper to continue.  
  
"Uh, I was just going to say, eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth, right?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
The blond engineer smiled sheepishly. "Old Earth saying. But the ship isn't here, so it must be somewhere else, right?"  
  
With a sigh, the Captain agreed. "OK, Harper, let's go looking for the improb -."  
  
The klaxon sound of blaring alarms cut through his speech. "Dylan, seven Slipstream events two light seconds out. It's the Ogami, and they are preparing to fire!" No sooner had the words left the avatar's lips than the sound of incoming missiles filled the bridge.  
  
"Battlestations! Trance, get up here!" With a brief moment of thankfulness that Galil and her son had long since returned to quarters for a rest - the Com deck being no place for non-combatants or children - Dylan turned to face off against the mercenaries who seemed to be following them.  
  
  
  
Tyr's heart thudded in his chest, and he dashed the dripping sweat away from his eyes as he drew air deeply into his lungs. He was tiring quickly, and his leg and head throbbed in painful concert. He was now certain that Beka was being taken somewhere by a group of bi-ped animals of some sort, and the speed at which they seemed to be moving was formidable. He couldn't tell how far they were ahead of him, but he didn't like the possibilities of what might happen to Beka when they finally stopped. Ignoring his growing weariness, Tyr, digging deeply into his Nietzschean stamina, ran on.  
  
  
  
The Andromeda shuddered as three missiles evaded her point defense and found homes on her decks. A shower of sparks punctuated Dylan's snapped, "Rommie, open a hailing frequency!" Harper rolled his eyes at that, but stood waiting at the pilot's station for his captain's next move.  
  
"Channel open," Andromeda responded.  
  
"This is Captain Dylan Hunt of the Systems Commonwealth. Stand down your attack! We mean you no harm! We are here trying to retrieve missing crew members and are not hostile!"  
  
A momentary pause in the firing, then, "Dylan, all the Ogami are opening fire! Multiple missiles incoming!"  
  
"That worked well, Boss," Harper smirked.  
  
"Harper, evasive action! Trance, where the heck are you?" Manning the weapons station, Dylan's hands pounded the firing controls, targeting and launching a series of strikes against the seven cruisers facing them. Easily keeping his balance as Harper's enthusiastic maneouvering strained Andromeda's stabilizers, Dylan proved again his High Guard credentials by destroying first one bulky ship, and then another.  
  
A massive crash shook the Com deck, wiping any trace of a smile from Harper's face and bringing a huge frown to his captain's. "Why the heck are these guys attacking us?"  
  
Trance dashed onto the Com Deck just in time to hear this demand. "Aren't those Ogami ships, just like the mercenaries that attacked you a while ago on Haukon Tau?"  
  
"Yeah, but we haven't heard anything from them in a while. Why now?"  
  
"Maybe they just haven't been able to find us until now?"  
  
"C'mon, Trance, these are Ogami. They can ALWAYS find people they've been contracted to kill."  
  
"Well, they've certainly found us now," she observed as the crash of multiple missile strikes rattled again through the ship.  
  
  
  
Tyr stumbled, his usual grace completely eliminated by the fatigue and pain beating at him. His naked chest and back were streaked with sweat mixed with the blood from dozens of small cuts collected from the surrounding greenery. He had been running for many hours, and estimated that he'd covered at least 80 kilos. He was nearing the end of his strength, but, he was very much afraid, not the end of his journey. The terrain had changed little - a tiny part of his mind marveled at the size of the forest he was endlessly traversing - and there was nothing within sight to indicate that the beings who had taken Beka had stopped anywhere nearby. Breath whistling through exhausted lungs, Tyr lurched on along the trail.  
  
  
  
Beka's nearly naked body, secured to a rough wooden pallet by thongs, convulsed as the IV dumped fluids into her bloodstream. Excited chittering erupted through the room, and grey fingers quickly moved to add an injection to the IV line. The arc of Beka's protesting figure relaxed as she collapsed back onto the bed. More chittering followed as several sets of grey hands worked over her various injuries and scrapes, but Beka remained stubbornly unconscious of the ministrations. Even the sudden violent shaking of the room where she lay did not rouse her.  
  
  
  
Tyr stumbled again, this time falling awkwardly to the forest floor. Was the ground shaking around him? For a moment he lay still, winded and nearly at the end of his great endurance. A throaty growl was the only warning he had; he barely managed to snap his bone blades in place before the big cat was on him, teeth and claws ripping at unprotected flesh. Adrenaline flooded his exhausted system as his body reacted to the pain and threat to his survival. With a roar, he grappled with the carnivore, managing to score a deep gouge on the predator's shoulder with a slash of his deadly forearm. The cat screamed its pain and fury as it slashed at Tyr in return, fierce claws sinking into Tyr's unprotected side. Uttering another roar of pain and fury, Tyr fought his body's instinctive reaction to get free and instead reached into the pain, wrapping massive arms around the cat's neck and twisting as its teeth sank deep into his shoulder. With a soundless shudder, the feline died, mouth still locked on Tyr's flesh. Panting from the shock and pain, Tyr ripped the beast's mouth from his shoulder and crawled a few feet to get out from under the weight of its dead body. He could go no further; agony twisted his countenance as he collapsed into unconsciousness.  
  
  
  
The eerie light of two more exploding Ogami cruisers lit up space, and the small crew on Andromeda's Com Deck cheered loudly at the sight. "Go, Dylan!" exclaimed a bloodthirsty Harper already resentful of the massive amounts of work he would have to do to fix the Andromeda after this firefight.  
  
Acknowledging the cheers with the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, Dylan fired again, trying to discourage the remaining three cruisers from continuing the battle. For a moment, the Ogami seemed to consider, then, surprising Dylan considerably, they turned to beat a retreat. Rather than exiting the system, however, they came to a stop just outside Andromeda's firing range, clearly waiting for another chance at the starship.  
  
"Great," exclaimed Harper. "Now we've got an audience."  
  
"We're leaving anyway, Mr. Harper, remember?"  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
Trance's voice was unexpected. "Dylan, I don't think we should leave."  
  
"Why not, Trance?"  
  
"I just think it would be better if we stick around here to try to find Beka and Tyr."  
  
Dylan opened his mouth to question her further, but, after a glance at her stubbornly impassive countenance, he closed it. A pause ensued, then he said, "OK, if they're here and they're not in space, then they are most likely on that planet. Andromeda, scan the planet for Tyr and Beka."  
  
Without a word, the Andromeda Ascendant turned to obey.  
  
  
  
No matter how genetically enhanced, Nietzschean blood looked exactly like human blood when it spilled. And a great deal of it had spilled on the forest floor, the watcher noted. Blood trailed along a path where it looked as though a large body had crawled or pulled itself along. Eventually, the watcher found the crumpled figure of the Kodiak. A grim smile touched its lips as it bent over Tyr's prone body.  
  
  
  
Beka's return to consciousness was eerily like her swim up through the copper lake to reach air after she'd jumped from the crashed ship. For a while, she was unsure if she would make it, but then she found herself crashing through the wave into the unadulterated light. Only it wasn't so light, and when she found she could not move her arms as they were bound to the bed above her head, it wasn't at all joyous either. Her head ached, her body ached, there was no sign of Tyr and she was tied up in a room she'd never seen before. This, she concluded, could NOT be good. With a bitter set to her mouth, she relaxed onto the hard pallet on which she lay, the better to conserve her strength for when it was needed.  
  
It was not very long before she heard an odd, clicking footstep approaching from behind her head. Tensing, she waited for whatever approached her to enter her field of view. She was unable to stifle a gasp when she her eyes fell onto a hideous, snouted countenance covered with grey fur. Intimidating tusk-like incisors emerged from a mouthful of sharp, yellowed teeth, and Beka got a good look at the teeth as the creature opened its mouth to speak.  
  
The voice that emerged from the savage mouth was surprisingly high. The sounds it made were not recognizable, and after it paused, seemingly inquiringly, Beka kicked her wits into gear. "Don't you speak Common?" she asked the creature, her voice rusty with disuse. "Will you untie me please?" The being chattered back at her with some excitement, but Beka was no more able to understand it than before.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said with growing frustration, "but I don't understand." Beka jerked on her bindings, wincing as the new straps cut into the injuries left from the last time she was bound on a bed. She gestured with her head, trying to make the creature understand that she wanted to be unbound. Her actions were met by a flood of additional speech, none of which she could comprehend. With a sigh, she sagged back on the bed and turned her head to the side. After a short while, the grey creature took the hint and left the room.  
  
Alone again, Beka took a more systematic inventory of the way she was feeling. Though she felt various aches and pains, she had to admit that, except for the bindings and the fact that Tyr was missing, she was finally feeling better than she had for a while. The fever and infection had passed, and she was no longer either thirsty or woozy. She could see, as she looked, that the cuts and abrasions she had suffered were covered with bandages, and they seemed much improved. Best of all, her mind was clear.  
  
But where was she, and, more important, where was Tyr? This whole episode seemed to be systematically stripping her of her friends and her freedom, and now, absolutely alone, Beka fought her feelings of despair by fanning the anger that renewed health made possible. Damn it, why wouldn't they let her go and find Tyr? Her jaw set pugnaciously, Beka settled down to work on getting free, systematically pulling again and again on the bindings that held her immobile. 


	4. Survival Part 4

Though six such beings had been more than enough to transport Beka to the low, stone building, it took nearly twice that many to carry Tyr's great bulk there. Groaning vocally at the effort, with grey hands slipping in the blood and sweat on the brown skin, the creatures finally managed to bring the Nietzschean's body within. Throughout, the watcher kept an eye on the proceedings, occasionally intervening in the strange language of the grey-furred beings.  
  
Beka heard a stir in the hallway, but as the bed to which she was secured faced the wall, she was unable to see what was making the noise. The clicking footsteps and high-pitched chattering continued past her room, and she relaxed again as the sounds faded. No intervention yet, apparently.  
  
  
  
"I think I've found them!" Rommie's voice was unusually excited. "They appear to be together on this planet." The drawing of the small system enlarged on the forward viewscreens, and a point began to flash on the western edge of a large land mass in one of the smaller planets on the other side of the sun from the trader's planet.  
  
"Great," moaned Harper. "Now all we need to do is figure out how to get them outta there with those Ogami breathing down the backs of our necks."  
  
Dylan's brow creased as he thought for a moment. "Trance, can you bring Galil up here to see if she has any ideas about this?"  
  
"OK, Dylan, I'll go get her." Trance disappeared from the Com deck, as Dylan stood watching the flashing point on the planet's surface, trying, in the absence of the Maru, to figure out how to extract his crewmembers without the Ogami shooting them down.  
  
  
  
As the noises faded into the corridor outside Beka's rough cell, she got back to work in earnest on loosening her bonds. The harsh, deep voice that sounded from behind her made her jump.  
  
"Do not attempt to free yourself." The voice was forbidding, but it spoke in Common.  
  
"Then why don't you free me." It was not a request.  
  
A low laugh answered her, and the voice, sounding insufferably smug, returned, "I don't think so." As it spoke the voice moved closer to her, until Beka, straining anew at her bindings, could see a massive cloaked figure in front of her. The figure appeared even taller than Tyr, and the deep voice sounded almost disembodied as it issued from the cavernous folds of fabric.  
  
"Why the hell not? What do you want with me?" Beka demanded, firing up. "This is ridiculous!"  
  
"Well, yes, on that front we concur. It is ridiculous that I am drawn to these lengths to secure a breeding partner." For a moment, the figure raised one sleeve to reveal an impressive set of bone spurs.  
  
Beka spluttered,"B - breeding partner? I don't think so! Besides, you're an Uber, and in case you haven't noticed, I've got really naked forearms."  
  
"And much else," the note that had entered the Niet's voice was ugly and salacious, making Beka swallow hard.  
  
She forced herself to still sound tough. "You haven't answered the question, O Superior Genes. Why would you even consider a human as a breeding partner?"  
  
With an abrupt gesture the figure threw the hood back from his face. "Because I cannot get anyone else!" he roared, and Beka, starring at his mutilated countenance with horror, could well believe it. As he approached the bed it took all she had not to whimper.  
  
Instead, her voice was very low and very clear. "Don't. Even. Think. About. It."  
  
His laugh sounded again, even more terrible than before. "But I am thinking about it, Kludge. And soon, very soon, I'm going to act on it." With that, he turned and swung from the room, leaving Beka, despite her determined bravado, trembling in reaction.  
  
  
  
The other Nietzschean lay dying. Blood loss, repeated injury, exhaustion and exposure had all combined to exceed the limits of even his formidable, engineered constitution. The tall figure, cloaked again, stood looking down at him, debating what to do next. Should he, Hallow out of Mirrella by Hellorian, try to save his fellow Niet, or should he just let the man die?  
  
The taller man's mangled face set in bitter lines within its enveloping cloak. Why should he lift a finger to save a specimen of his own race? His fellow Nietzscheans had reviled him from birth, and the savage taunting and beatings that he'd received as a young man had further marred his countenance and acceptability among others of his race. Why had his parents not drowned him when they first set eyes on his defective face? Split upper lip, non-existent nose, misshapen eyes - his own visage was the ugliest thing Hallow had ever seen.  
  
And no matter what he had displayed, what battles he'd won in the sparring ring, what feats of bravery he'd accomplished for his Pride, females had reviled him. His resentment and frustration had eventually led him to sacrifice the grudging acceptance he'd won by trying to force a young woman to become his mate.  
  
He had failed, of course; intervention from others had come just in time to prevent his assaulting the woman. The resulting rage of the Pride had driven him forever from his home; he had barely escaped with the clothes on his back and a small spacecraft. Blinded by rage and regret, he'd piloted carelessly until nearly out of fuel. He'd been forced to land on this backwater planet, and he had not much cared if he lived or died after that.  
  
Which ultimately had helped him. For when the gray, furry creatures who now served him first found him by the banks of a stream, his complete indifference to his fate had led him to display no fear of the sentient animals. In return, they left him alone. Hallow's blank rage and despair had muted, over time, into a reluctant interest in the workings of their pack; his superior intellect and formidable fighting skills had eventually allowed him to assume leadership over the group with a minimum of conflict.  
  
And so things had remained, for nearly a dozen years. No one came to the unspoiled planet, and he was unable to depart. When he'd received the report of the starship crashing into the lake, he'd been at first incredulous and then hopeful. His hopes had sunk with the ship, but then further reports had brought him news of the blond stranger and her Niet companion. The reports had been very specific in the degree of care they'd seen the Nietzschean bestow on his friend, and Hallow's hope had begun to stir in a darker direction.  
  
A human, yes, but who cared? At this point, any companionship would be welcome. And she was clearly in need of his help. He was determined to help cure her, so he sent his pack to fetch her. Once he'd set eyes on her, however, his goals had changed further. True, she was human, but she was also lovely, with a tough lean loveliness that challenged him. No longer was companionship the goal he sought.  
  
But what about the Nietzschean lying before him? He had every reason, Hallow acknowledged, to just leave him to die, to let the man expire without any intervention. Clearly this man would not be supportive of Hallow's goal to impregnate his friend. But somehow, at some unacknowledged level, Hallow wanted more than an unwilling mate. If he saved this man, if he kept him separate from the woman, mightn't he earn himself a friend through the gratitude he would be owed?  
  
Briefly, Hallow considered it.then decided to risk it. Twelve years without conversation with another Nietzschean was too long. He hungered for companionship, and he lusted for sexual fulfillment. If he kept them both, he could have both - so long as they were kept separate, unaware of each other. With a barking cry Hallow summoned the most skilled healers in his pack. They would have to work in haste if they were going to save him.  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry, Dylan, but I don't know anything about this system or why Tyr and Beka would have been brought here." Galil's voice was apologetic, and Dylan, after a frowning glance in her direction, nodded.  
  
"OK." He sighed briefly. "Harper, any brilliant ideas about how to handle this -." Again Dylan's voice was interrupted by klaxons blaring.  
  
"Dylan, we have multiple Slipstream events as well as a planetary launch." Immediately the ship was rocked by fire as the three cruisers, their waiting now explained, raced back to fire zone. "Twenty two incoming Ogami cruisers as well as a small fleet from the planet. They'll be in range in under a minute."  
  
"Hell! Harper, can we Slipstream?"  
  
"Just barely, Boss, and we'll have to do it right NOW."  
  
"Go, then, and we'll come back with a better plan for retrieving them."  
  
"Going." Harper made the ship leap into the Slipstream, ignoring, at first, the strange vessel following them.  
  
"I hope they'll be okay." Trance's voice sounded unusually young and uncertain, and the frown between Dylan's brows grew as he heard her.  
  
"Me, too, Trance. Me, too. But we'll be right back."  
  
"I hope so.." Voice trailing off, Trance left the Com deck, leaving Dylan frowning after her.  
  
  
  
When the tall figure returned to her bedside, Beka had her arguments ready. "You don't really want to do this, you know," she said, almost conversationally.  
  
"Not until I'm sure you're well enough to bear my child, anyway. Humans have a difficult enough time carrying Nietzschean babies without starting out ill."  
  
"No, no, no, I mean, you don't want to do this at all. Even with the accident that has -."  
  
"Accident?" he spat. "You think this was caused by an accident? No, this is what my DNA proscribed. This is what I was BORN looking like!" Thrusting his deformed visage in her face, the Nietzschean practically howled his last words.  
  
Beka blinked a few times, fighting to control the tremor in her voice before she began again. "But. isn't that a good reason not to have children?"  
  
"The odds are in my favor. My child will likely not be marred, and he will accept me from birth as his father, unaware that I am different from others."  
  
Beka bit her lip, then tried again. "Even so. you can't want a mate you get *this* way. Why not untie me and give me a chance to get to know you? I am not.uninterested in Nietzscheans; perhaps we can come to an arrangement."  
  
The tall man was silent, as if weighing her words. He had caught the trace of emotion under her "uninterested" comment and was working hard to betray no indication of his awareness of her meaning. After a time, he answered her. "I can't risk it. This is the only way I can be *sure* that I'll get you. And I will get you, as soon as you are better."  
  
"Then I will try my hardest to remain sick or die!" With that defiance, Beka closed her eyes and turned her face away, only to be wrenched back by an ungentle hand under her chin.  
  
"I wouldn't," the monstrous visage came close once again, "count on it." The voice was cold and low, and Beka couldn't prevent her involuntary shudder. With a brief, bitter laugh, the disfigured Nietzschean threw her chin away and stalked out of the room.  
  
  
  
Once again, the second time in as many weeks, Tyr came to consciousness wishing that he hadn't. The pain tore through him, wracking his figure until his back arched unconsciously to try to ease its tearing grip. Gritty eyes snapped open as he felt the touch of a gentle hand on his bicep; a sting spoke of an injection, and a flood of narcotic ease took him. His last thought was a vague astonishment that someone knew Nietzschean physiognomy well enough to inject him with a drug that was effective.  
  
  
  
Klaxons began shrilling again, this time as the Andromeda was hurled through Slipstream. "Harper, what's wrong?" Dylan demanded, anxious eyes on the diminutive engineer.  
  
"We seem to have picked up a tail and somehow it's warping the Slipstream around us!" Harper's usually irreverent voice sounded abruptly frantic. "I can't shake it!"  
  
"Well, come out of Slipstream then, and let's see if we can get rid of it in normal space."  
  
"I can't, Dylan! We're trapped in Slipstream, I don't know how to get out, and the 'Stream behind us is. changing, disfiguring. Even if I do get out, I can't get back to where Tyr and Beka are!" Harper's voice had devolved into outright panic.  
  
"Harper, calm down. We'll figure it out. Just keep your mind on the Slipstream and keep trying to get us out of here, OK?"  
  
"O-Okay, boss, I'll try," Harper said. His expression firmed, and he bent his considerable mental powers on trying to extricate his beloved starship from the deadly Slipstream trap they had all become caught in.  
  
  
  
Despite Beka's efforts to stay awake and on guard, eventually sleep took her. As she rested, her body continued to heal, boosted in part by the nutrients and medication delivered via the IV still in her vein. When she awoke many hours later, she almost despaired; the feeling of her strength returning now heralded the onset of a period she was quite certain would be hideous. Where was Tyr? Or for that matter, Dylan? Harper and the Andromeda even? Had they all abandoned her? Beka tried to remain calm, but she was fighting a losing battle.  
  
  
  
Tyr's next awakening, many hours later, was also marked by desolation. His innate time sense was confirmed by the chrono still on his wrist; more than two days had passed since he last had seen Beka. Did she live? Was she somewhere in whatever building he found himself in? Reaching within his great strength, Tyr tried to rise and search for Beka, but he found, to his mingled shame and frustration, that he could not even make it to the door. Collapsing on the floor next to his rough bed, Tyr, too, despaired, fearing for Beka and hearing the echoes of Rommie's words in his head: "The only thing that Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa fears is being alone.."  
  
When the gray, furred creature came softly into the room, it chittered in surprise to see its patient on the floor. Calling down the hall for help, it reached down with its fellows and heaved the Nietzschean's unresisting body back up to the pallet. Tyr's eyes widened as they fell upon the unprepossessing countenances of the creatures helping him; his gaze sharpened as it traveled to the creature's clawed paws. These were the creatures that had carried Beka off, he was certain of it.  
  
"Do you know what has happened to my friend?" Tyr's voice was rough and out of practice, the tone urgent. The creatures surrounding him exchanged what Tyr would swear was understanding glances, then one spoke to him in a language he did not understand. "My friend! Do you know where she is?" Tyr's voice was stronger, but he still did not receive an answer. "Wait!" he called as the creatures turned to leave, but his only answer was the sudden sting in his bicep as the remaining being gave him another injection. This time, as the narcotic took him under, his feeling was resentment. He had to find Beka.  
  
  
  
Hallow grunted as he moved the heavy rocks from the cave. He was getting ready to have the human, who seemed much improved physically, moved from the building into this cavern. Having his two prisoners together in the same building was too risky; the other Nietzschean's first impulse had been to try to find his human friend, and Hallow could not chance that. Nor did he want to carry on his - he searched delicately for the right word here - his "courtship" of the female within the potential earshot of the Niet. He looked around him at the spacious cavern he had uncovered and sighed in satisfaction. This was where he would keep her, and once he secured the entry he could free her from the bed. That ought to improve her mood considerably.  
  
  
  
Beka's mood very black indeed. Her arms were cramping from being held over her head, and she was more than tired of sessions with a bedpan. As the latest cramps swept over her shoulders, she threw back her head in frustration and anger and screamed wordlessly, as loud as she could. She could no longer endure this terrifying immobility and the hovering fate awaiting her!  
  
At the sound of the scream, Tyr's eyes snapped open. Clearing his throat, and the mists left in his brain by the drugs, he struggled to shout back. "Beka? Beka was that you? Beka!" Gaining in urgency and volume, his voice began to ring through the hall of the stone house.  
  
With a glad sob, Beka heard it and responded. "Tyr! Tyr, here I am! Where are you? Tyr!" Beka screamed as loudly as she could, tears of relief running down her face.  
  
His face set in ferocious lines, Tyr staggered to his feet, ripping out the IV line he hadn't even noticed in his shoulder. With a few steps he weaved to the door, shouting, "Beka, I'm coming!" When he found the door locked he barely hesitated; gathering his strength, he took a few steps back and aimed a killing kick at the wood. With a splintering sound it gave way, and he crashed through it into the hall, turning blindly in the direction of Beka's continued cries.  
  
A sea of gray-skinned creatures began erupting from surrounding doorways, but Tyr swept them aside with a careless arm and staggered through the door where Beka was still calling.  
  
He took in her situation with an enraged glance, and turned and slammed the door to her cell closed. Snapping out his bone spurs, he broke the leather bindings holding her to the bed with two savage swipes. Tears streaked down her face as she fell into his arms, and for a moment they held each other, each relieved beyond measure to find the other alive.  
  
The door behind them opened, and Tyr quickly stripped the IV from Beka's arm and put her behind him with a smooth movement. The furry face that met his gaze was obviously bewildered and concerned; Tyr held up one hand, finger extended, to stop its forward motion. Shaking his head at the animal, Tyr put his other arm around Beka and, cautiously side-stepping the gray furred being, helped her to her feet and guided her from the room. Behind them the creature chattered in dismay, and Beka, risking a glance over her shoulder, saw it wring its hands in a gesture of almost human despair.  
  
Turning her face back to the front, she tightened her arm around Tyr's waist despite the sharp pain in both her shoulders. His tightened in return, as though he would never let go of her again, and, leading an unwanted parade of gray furred beings the two together swept from the doorway of the stone building. They had gone several steps into the forest when a savage voice rang out. "Stop!" it demanded, and unwillingly, they stopped, halted by the threat ringing through the angry tones.  
  
Putting Beka behind him again, Tyr turned to face the tall figure across the clearing. The cloaked figure had a blaster aimed steadily at him, and Tyr's mouth set hard as he began to measure the odds of escape. From behind him, Beka murmured, "He's a disfigured Nietzschean, Tyr, and he said he wanted.." In her pause he read her fear and horror. "He said he would have me as his - his breeding partner." Beka sounded as if she couldn't even force the words from her lips.  
  
A killing rage took Tyr at her words. He couldn't risk turning away from the threat to face her, but his mellifluous voice enveloped her. "Ahh, Beka," he groaned, empathetic pain ringing in his tones. "Did he touch you? Did he. harm you?"  
  
"Thankfully, not yet, Tyr. And I'd rather not give him a second chance!"  
  
"Agreed. You must get away. I will divert him so you can escape."  
  
"No!" Strong arms clamped around his waist from behind. "No, I won't leave you here, Tyr. I won't."  
  
"This is all so very touching," sneered the rough voice from across the clearing, "but I believe we can dispense with it. Your only value to me, Nietzschean, was if you didn't know what I was doing to your girlfriend. Since you DO know." Calmly, the renegade Niet raised the blaster and fired.  
  
Divining his intent from the man's voice, Tyr shoved Beka in one direction and dove in the other, drawing the other Niet's successive shots away from his crewmate. Rolling, Tyr evaded the three blasts and ducked behind a tree, his breath heaving in his chest. Scrambling to his feet, Tyr took off running through the forest, hoping to draw the other Nietzschean as far away from Beka as possible.  
  
But the Niet did not pursue him. Tyr stopped quickly and doubled back through the forest, rushing toward the clearing where he'd left Beka behind. In a tiny absent corner of his mind, he marveled at his unthinking willingness to risk his own survival to save Beka. When had she become so important to him that saving himself and abandoning her was literally inconceivable?  
  
But he had no time for such introspection. Moving silently through the woods, Tyr crept back to the clearing to hear the other Niet's taunt. "Didn't take him too long to run out on you, did it, my dear? You'd best take my offer and enjoy it. With me, you could live as a queen on this planet, served by my Vupli and indulged in every wish. Reconsider, won't you? I'd hate to have to shoot you again."  
  
Beka's voice was tight with pain as she replied. "No thanks. I'd rather be dead."  
  
"You won't be dead, my dear, you'll only wish you were." Biting his lip, Tyr listened to Beka cry out again; then, all was silent. Tyr knew that the best chance they had of them both surviving this was for him to remain uncaptured, but it took every bit of his hard-won control to prevent himself from rushing out and jumping the other Niet, regardless of the consequences. Tyr's knuckles grew white as his clenched fists betrayed his rage and anguish.  
  
  
  
Harper's hands were beginning to tremble slightly as he fought to hold the ship steady in Slipstream. They had been trapped in Slipstream for several hours, and Harper's endurance was nearly running out. He had already made numerous jumps in this day, and the physical demands of 'Streaming were particularly taxing on the slight human with the compromised immune system. Only the knowledge that his beloved Andromeda would be destroyed by his failure kept Harper upright and concentrating.  
  
Beside him, Trance was frantically punching different scenarios into the computer to try to find a way to exit Slipstream. Dylan paced on the other side, urgently trying, too, to figure out a way out of the trap they had found themselves caught in. Behind the Andromeda, the small tailgater followed relentlessly, its pilot intent on remaining close to the fleeing ship.  
  
Galil had come onto the bridge earlier, curious about their long spate in the Slipstream. When she'd come to understand what they were facing, her eyes had widened, and she had excused herself to return to her son. Dylan spared an absent thought for her, hoping she wasn't too terrified. As if brought to life by his thought, Galil's voice sounded over the communicator.  
  
"Dylan, I have an idea." She spoke in clipped tones, as if appreciating that he would not want his attention diverted for long.  
  
"Let's hear it."  
  
"I know you can't fire any weapons in Slipstream, but could Andromeda open a hangar door or two and leave some debris where our follower might fly into it?"  
  
Dylan thought for a split second, then nodded to an anxious Rommie. "Do it," he directed. "Galil, there's not a great chance that rubbish will end up where we want it to go, but it's worth a shot. Thanks!"  
  
"Believe me, no thanks necessary," Galil's response was heartfelt, and Dylan nodded in sympathy.  
  
At first, Rommie's sabotage efforts met with no success. A succession of loose items was let go from different hangars, but the pursuing ship whizzed harmlessly by them all. After several minutes, however, Rommie's aim, with the help of Trance's deployment tracking, got much better, and she was ultimately able to release a large chunk of rock directly in the path of the following vessel.  
  
What followed was very satisfying. The strange ship veered off, then flipped out of Slipstream, obviously deteriorating as it went. With a sigh of pure relief, Harper took the Andromeda out of the 'Stream as well, sagging in relief at the pilot's station as normal space reappeared around them.  
  
"Boss, we've just gotta get some chairs in here, OK? Now I'm gonna go sleep for a week!" With that, weaving slightly, Harper aimed toward the door.  
  
"Mr. Harper," Dylan's voice stopped him, and Harper turned dumbly to face his captain. "Nice work."  
  
A tired grin briefly light the face under blond hair even more wildly rumpled than usual, and then Harper left the Com deck. "Rommie, make sure he makes it to his quarters, OK?" The avatar nodded as she tracked his progress through her corridors.  
  
"Now, Trance, let's see if we can figure out a way to get back." Turning back to the golden-skinned woman, Dylan leaned over the science station to examine alternate Slipstream routes back to the system where they'd left Beka and Tyr.  
  
  
  
Tyr listened intently to the sounds of the forest, waiting to determine which direction to follow. From Beka's last cry, he deduced that she'd been hurt again, and was perhaps unconscious. Jaw tight, he moved quietly around the clearing until he learned just how wrong he was.  
  
"OK, asshole, no more Ms. Nice Captain. I've had it with you and your 'irresistible' proposals." Beka's voice sounded clear and firm, widening the eyes of her listening crewmate. The sound of blows carried a good distance, prompting Tyr to jump back into the clearing, intent on evening up Beka's odds.  
  
The site that met his slightly bemused gaze was astonishing. The tall Nietzschean, hood thrown back to reveal his marred features, was bent over, obviously clutching a very vulnerable area of his body. Despite his loathing for the man, Tyr winced in sympathy as Beka delivered a strong, two-handed blow to the back of the Niet's neck. "See what overconfidence can bring?" she taunted, as the Niet fell to his knees.  
  
Turning, Beka saw Tyr watching, and a brief smile crossed her intent features. "I got tired of the whole damsel in distress thing, you know?" she asked, pivoting with a kick that he'd worked many hours in the gym to teach her. Her outstretched foot connected with the downed Nietzschean's head with a satisfying thwack, and both watched as the Niet's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap.  
  
"There," Beka said, dusting off her hands elaborately. "And let that be a lesson to you, too, Tyr, not to underestimate humans." In an absent corner of her mind she was profoundly grateful, given the kick she'd just used, that she had left on her shoes throughout this ordeal.  
  
"I'll never underestimate you, at any rate," Tyr returned, eyes lit with relief and something more.  
  
"No more weakest link discussions," she agreed. Leaning over her adversary's body, she quickly and systematically removed everything they could use from it, including the cloak which she hastily wrapped around her scantily clad body. "Let's get out of here," she said, tossing the blaster to Tyr. With one accord, they turned and made their way out of the deadly clearing, moving quickly to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the aberrant Niet. 


	5. Survival Part 5

"This is ridiculous," Dylan exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "How can we be totally blocked from there?"  
  
"I don't know, Dylan, but I can't see a way to get back." Trance sounded distressed, and Rommie's wide eyes echoed the feeling.  
  
"Rommie, is Harper still sleeping? Seems like we need a super-genius right about now." Dylan's voice was wry.  
  
"He is; do you want me to wake him?"  
  
"I'm afraid so. I don't like leaving Tyr and Beka for so long. Who knows what they are facing?"  
  
"Who knows?" echoed Trance with a particularly worried frown.  
  
  
  
Beka's initial elation faded quickly, and as she followed Tyr through the forest worry began to overtake her. They were neither of them totally fit, though much healed from before, and they still had the problem of potable water, supplies and shelter. Eying the back of her stoic companion briefly, Beka debated, then spoke.  
  
"So, big guy, you got a plan for us? Seems like we've still got a water problem, and I won't be too surprised if Mr. Tall and Scary from back there sends his wolf-men out after us."  
  
Beka caught Tyr's assessing glance over his shoulder. "C'mon, spill it if you've got it." For some reason, Beka was feeling the need to be particularly irreverent and witty.  
  
Tyr hid a small smile at her assumed attitude as he turned to her. "I have found some acceptable water, but it is more than a day's journey from here. I believe we must keep moving as long as we can, then rest. Also, we need to be particularly careful of predators." Tyr pulled his shirt off his shoulder to give Beka a glimpse of the healing bite there.  
  
Startled out of her smart-alec approach, Beka's eyes widened. "My God, Tyr, how did you survive that?"  
  
This time Tyr didn't even try to hide the smile. "It is a Nietzschean gift."  
  
Beka rolled her eyes at that. "Yeah, yeah." A trace of shock remained as she stared at his now-covered shoulder. "Well, despite your superiority complex, I'm occasionally glad that you have that gift."  
  
"Me, too, Beka." Shocking her speechless, Tyr reached over and took her hand as he began walking forward. "Me, too." Beka walked beside him in stunned silence.  
  
Beka and Tyr walked for several hours. As they made their way through the forest, they came across occasional fruit sources and water. Beka tried to drink from the streams, but, although she was not actively ill, the water seriously disagreed with her system. She munched gratefully on the fruit they were able to forage, savoring the juices in lieu of water.  
  
As the twin suns began to set, dusk cast long shadows on the forest floor. The air grew more chill, and both began to feel the strain of fatigue and weariness. Again with one impulse they began searching for a potentially defensible place to spend the night.  
  
Beka was the one to discover the small cavern near a clearing. Surrounded by fallen boulders, the cave went underground for a short distance, then ended. As before, Tyr fired his blaster on low within the cave to eliminate any other potential refugees. Then, with an ironical wave of his hand, he motioned for Beka to precede him inside.  
  
Before he joined her, Tyr worked in the dying light to erase any hint of their presence. He moved rocks to partially obstruct the cave's opening, and piled leave and branches beside the rocks. He swept the area in front of the cave with a leafy branch then placed it artistically over the remaining opening as he backed into the cave.  
  
Beka gasped as he bumped into her outstretched foot. "What, Beka?" Tyr demanded, his excellent night vision catching her pained expression.  
  
"No big deal, Tyr, just blisters."  
  
With a frown, Tyr reached out and held her foot in his hand. His long fingers stroked over her skin as he leaned over to examine it as well as he could in the dimming light. "Does this hurt?" he said, voice lower than usual as he brushed over a sore spot.  
  
Despite her efforts at self control, Beka shivered at the touch of his hand on her skin. He looked up quickly. "Are you cold, Beka?"  
  
"M-maybe a little. And that doesn't hurt very much," she said.  
  
At the tone of her voice, Tyr's head cocked toward her, and she swore she could see him smiling in that irritating male way. Clearing her throat, she said, "Ahh - can I have my foot back?"  
  
With a lingering caress, Tyr released it, and they sat in a charged silence for a moment. Then, Beka could not resist a yawn, and the prosaic noise seemed to return them to more solid footing.  
  
"C'mon, let's get some rest, Beka. Lie down here next to me and we'll share body heat." With that, Tyr lay down, and there was just enough light remaining for Beka to see his outstretched arm as he waited for her to join him.  
  
For a moment, Beka hesitated, torn between a quip and genuine worry about getting so close to him. Her feelings were treacherously close to the surface right now. With a mental shrug, she capitulated, curling up in the circle of his arm and resting her head on her shoulder. With a soft sigh, she relaxed, and he responded by tightening his arm around her. She quickly grew drowsy, and may have imagined the soft kiss pressed against her hair as sleep claimed her.  
  
Harper staggered onto the Com deck with a Sparky Cola can in each hand. Gaze bleary, he looked around, smirking. "Resident genius on deck, sir," he gloated to Dylan, lifting a can in salutation. Dylan sighed. Rommie must have had to resort to extreme flattery to get him up.  
  
"Harper, we need to figure out what that ship was, what it did to the Slipstream, and what we can do to undo it. We can't get back to where we left Tyr and Beka until we figure this out."  
  
Abruptly sobering, Harper frowned heavily. "Yeah, I wondered about that, but I was just too tired to do anything before. Lemme think here." He lapsed into an abstracted silence, brow furrowed, absently taking an occasional drink from the can in his right hand. Finally, he looked up. "Rommie, can you analyze the representative mass of the ship that was following us in the Slipstream? And also, can you tell me if you experienced any massive change in mass or displacement in the 'Stream? That might help us solve this puzzle."  
  
"OK, Harper, I'm working on it."  
  
"Dylan, from what I can see, we can make it by Slipstream to the Eillian system, which is only a few dozen light years away from the trader system. Maybe getting closer would help, do you think?"  
  
Dylan frowned for a minute, considering it, then swung into the pilot's chair. "Slipstreaming in five.four." Harper tuned him out as he bent his mind to solving the problem and getting back to Tyr and Beka.  
  
  
  
In the morning, Beka came gradually awake, soothed by the steady thud of the heartbeat under her cheek and the warmth of the body she was snuggled next to. Breathing in the smell of his skin, she gave a tiny sigh and kept her eyes resolutely closed; the feeling of being warm, safe and tightly held was too good to disturb. If she had seen his face, however, she would have moved - quickly.  
  
Tyr had awakened with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Drawing a great breath, he pulled her scent deep into his lungs; with a quick look he ascertained that she was wound around him like a vine on a trellis. Involuntarily his arm tightened as he reflected on how good it felt to be with her, not to awaken alone.  
  
He was pleased to note that no one had come to disturb their night's rest. For a small time, he drifted, absurdly content given their circumstances. Then, bit by bit, as he recalled the events of yesterday and his own actions, doubts began to stalk him.  
  
Here he was, stranded for who knew how long on an unidentified planet with only a human woman and a renegade Niet for possible companionship, and he was feeling contentment? Satisfaction? An undeniable sexual attraction? A cold, stern voice inside him began to sneer. Why was he feeling happy? And when had he changed so much?  
  
Beka shifted in his arms, sighing softly. When had it become not just important, but essential to keep this human woman alive? This kludge? Not just a human, but an unpedigreed drug-addict mongrel of a human, to boot, with tendencies toward addiction and DNA inherited from a thief and drug runner? The cold voice inside him grew sterner.  
  
And, as his thoughts touched on the rest of the crew, he found another questions: when had it become important to protect all the others, too? Why did Hunt's quixotic mission matter at all?  
  
When had they all begun to mean so much, the woman in his arms most of all? And, the voice grew colder yet, how could any real Nietzschean, any true product of superior breeding, have these inappropriate feelings?  
  
Tyr's thoughts had gone down this path before, but never with such bitter clarity, such a focused disparity between what he ought to be feeling, and what he was.  
  
And then, as Tyr lay reflecting, his thoughts turned without his volition to the other Nietzschean. Though Tyr's rage had cooled, it still ate at him, but now a line of bitterness crossed that anger. Was he, Tyr, with his sappy, soft stupidity regarding the crew of the Andromeda and Beka in particular, much better than that other man? Much different in fact?  
  
Tyr's generous mouth slowly formed a bitter line as he lay bathed in the imperatives of his youth, of his people. No matter how he struggled, he could not fully evade them. He could not deny that he, like the other Niet, was attracted sexually to Beka, even though she was a human. And all his early training shrilled at him that that was very wrong.  
  
Actually, there was a difference in his attraction for the human, though he was not certain that it spoke positively about him: The other Niet wanted Beka's DNA, wanted to reproduce with her, while he, Tyr, only wanted her. Her DNA was another matter entirely.  
  
But he could not deny that somehow, she had sneaked through his defenses, through the prohibitions and tenets of his philosophy to touch.but he could not finish that thought, even to himself.  
  
Tyr uttered a sharp, short sigh, no longer at all contented. Skewered by Nietzschean decrees, he remained still only through force of will, through the innate consideration that, despite his conscious thoughts, snuck through his subconscious to ensure that he treat the woman in his arms very well.  
  
At some primal level Beka had been marked as someone who mattered to him, mattered a lot. But while Tyr could vaguely acknowledge this, he could only recognize it consciously in order to deny it. He was a Nietzschean, and he would not fall as the other Nietzschean on this planet had fallen.  
  
The rest of the time until Beka awoke he lay stiffly, more conscious of the distance between them, despite their physical proximity, than he had been in a long while.  
  
  
  
"OK, Harper, what have you got?" Dylan was very focused on making progress.  
  
"Well, Rommie and I have worked out where the Slipstream route should be. We should be able to hop back to that system in a flash from here. But the thing is, we can't find any trace of the route in Slipstream itself. It just doesn't make any sense!"  
  
Dylan eyed him, feeling the frown pulling on his forehead. "So what do you propose we do?"  
  
"Well, I guess we should enter Slipstream and try to get there. The route may be there and we just can't see it."  
  
"What's the downside?"  
  
Harper looked troubled for a moment. "We could end up just about anywhere if we don't make it through the route we're trying. Anywhere, Boss!" Harper waggled his brows for emphasis.  
  
Dylan sighed, "Well, check the calculations again, then, Harper. We need to get back to Tyr and Beka, not shot off anywhere in space."  
  
"You got it, Boss man." Harper didn't sound enthusiastic, but he really REALLY wanted Beka and Tyr back. Grabbing another Sparky, he turned his attention back to recalibrating the Slipstream sensors once again as Dylan left the Com deck.  
  
Dylan felt unusually restless and unfocused as he strode down the hall. His need to retrieve the missing members his crew was like a constant burning itch; rather than scratch, all he could do was wait while Harper and Rommie worked on the problem. Dylan's frown grew as he contemplated being hurled through Slipstream again on a futile effort to get to his First and Weapons officers. He certainly hoped his resident genius could get them successfully to the trader system.  
  
Without consciously heading in that direction, he looked up and found himself in the corridor that led to Galil's quarters. "Been neglecting her lately," Dylan thought to himself, ignoring the number of times a set of sparkling green eyes had passed through his mind.  
  
Dylan rang the chimes to her door, and heard her slightly husky, "Enter," in response. Smiling, he stepped through the door, finding his guest relaxing on the couch with a book in her hand.  
  
"Hello, Captain Hunt, how's it going up there? Are we any closer to getting your team back?"  
  
"'Dylan,' Galil. It's 'Dylan.' And I think we're making progress, but I'm not sure."  
  
"Anything I can do, err, Dylan?"  
  
Dylan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "At this point there's nothing I can do. But thanks for the offer." Still he sat, so expectant that she gave a little laugh.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where's Ian? I came to see if he wants to play with me."  
  
At his eager voice, she smiled again. "Oh, Dylan, I'm sure he'd love to but he's off somewhere with Trance. He's really fallen for her."  
  
Dylan listened carefully, but he could hear only warmth and approval in her tones. So he asked directly. "Jealous?"  
  
"Who me? Of Trance?" She looked at him to see if she'd understood properly. "Heavens, NO," her voice rang with conviction. "I'm just happy he's got someone to play with. Even though things were tough on Saskill at the end, that was really the only home he'd known. I was worried that he might be homesick, but instead, Trance is helping turn this into a grand adventure."  
  
"And how about for you?" Dylan, deprived of his other playmate, settled back in his chair. "Is this a 'grand adventure' for you?" His eyes were stead on her brilliant green ones as he asked the question.  
  
Galil relaxed a little into the couch, frowning as she gathered her thoughts. "Not in the same way. Don't get me wrong," she interjected hastily, "it's not that I'm not hugely grateful for your rescue. But, I think that grand adventures require a sort of. of innocence that I no longer have. A sense of wonder and discovery, perhaps?"  
  
Again her gaze met his as she checked to see if she was getting through. Dylan nodded, and she continued. "I don't have a sense of discovery so much as a sense of responsibility. I need to find another place to live, settle in and try to give Ian as stable a life as possible. I know I need to do these things, but.I have no appetite for them. And the weight of those "need to do's" is so heavy that it overshadows everything else."  
  
"Hmm," said Dylan. Brow creased, he considered for a moment. "Have you given any thought to remaining here for a while?"  
  
"On board the Andromeda?" She sounded startled. "Not really, no. You put this ship in harm's way pretty regularly, right? I'm not sure I want Ian exposed to that. And I'd like to find a place where he could make other friends his own age."  
  
The giggles that erupted into the room as the door sprang open brought an answering laugh to her eyes. "His own age, huh?" Dylan teased. "What for?" he queried, as Ian and Trance, obviously deep into a game of tickle- tag, dashed through the sitting room on the way to Galil's bedroom. Shaking her head, Galil smiled wryly as she rolled her eyes at the antics of her son and his gold-skinned friend.  
  
  
  
When Beka was finally ready to move, she groaned a little, stretched against Tyr and opened her eyes. What she saw shocked her; his gaze, when she met his eyes, was very distant and his face was set. The cheery "Good morning" she'd been about to utter died on her lips; the smile died from her eyes and was replaced with the dawning anxiety she was feeling. "Tyr?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"  
  
Instead of answering, he turned is face away. "Please release me, Captain Valentine. I need to arise." Beka disengaged herself from him as though he had suddenly caught fire; only the side of the cave stopped her impulsive roll away. She lay watching him as he rose deliberately to his feet, his impassive face betraying nothing that he was feeling. The anxiety grew sharper, and she said, again, "What's wrong, Tyr?"  
  
He exhaled and replied with elaborate patience. "Nothing is amiss. I am going to find us something to eat." With those words, delivered in a tone so flat that they robbed his normally mellifluous voice of its marvelous cadence, he turned and left the cave. Still sprawled on the floor where she'd rolled, Beka lay still and watched him leave, stunned by the change in his manner toward her. What could have happened to transform the relaxed, caring, sensual man from last night into the automaton she'd just seen? Rising slowly to her feet, Beka pondered what to do next.  
  
  
  
Whoa, where did that come from? Dylan frowned as he considered his impulsive offer to Galil to stay aboard. He hadn't even consulted Rommie, much less any of the other members of his crew, before popping off with the invitation, and while it was his ship, he was sure that any additions to the contingent would be better received for being pre-approved, so to speak.  
  
Frowning, Dylan walked back into Command to see Harper dancing a little jig at the Science station. He forcibly thrust his thoughts aside.  
  
"Good news, Mr. Harper?"  
  
"Woo-hoo, boss, I think we've nailed it! The route IS there; we just need to open our Slipstream portal using a mass diversifier and then.." Dylan knew he was starting to get that glazed look already; when Harper looked up he trailed off. "Anyway, Dylan, we're ready to go!"  
  
"OK, let's bring it! I want to get Beka and Tyr back on this ship!"  
  
With a nod, Harper dove for the pilot's station. " 'Streaming in five.four.three.." And with a flash of brilliant illumination, the Andromeda bravely threw herself into Slipstream once again. 


	6. Survival Part 6

The walk through the forest was very quiet. Tyr's mood had not lightened; he had returned from foraging to dump a few pieces of fruit at her feet and then had waited without words for her to finish. As soon as she was done, he began walking, and with a shrug she had followed him.  
  
She huffed out a quiet breath. No hand-holding today, that was for sure! With a frown etching her brow, she looked at the tall figure she was following. He'd tied his hair back in that engaging way he had, using his own locks as a tie. His figure swung easily through the woods - more easily than hers, she admitted with a wince as her blisters began throbbing - but the set of his shoulders betrayed his fundamental tension. No matter how easily he moved, Tyr was not at ease.  
  
It wasn't too difficult to figure out what had happened. Now that she was relatively certainly nothing external had occurred, Beka was pretty sure that something had reminded Tyr that he was Nietzschean and she was inferior - only a kludge.  
  
Not that she was unused to his feeling like that. On the contrary, even though they'd become closer since that disastrous dinner so many months ago, Beka's belief that he'd been telling the truth as he knew it - that any kind of serious inter-species relationship was, quite simply, unthinkable - had not wavered.  
  
Not, that is, until this sequence of events. She supposed, when she thought about it, that this was the most intensive, dangerous, and stressful interlude they'd ever shared. And the sheer exuberance of their survival had probably led Tyr to act in ways he otherwise would not have.  
  
It had felt good, no question. For months she had fought the attraction she felt for him, knowing that he was unlike to welcome it. The sense that he was open to that kind of feeling, that he might even reciprocate, had been dangerously seductive in itself. Beka shook her head a little as she walked at the folly of letting that particular part of her guard down.  
  
Because, fundamentally, there couldn't be anything between them. She knew that. She'd known it for months.  
  
And fundamentally, she asserted to herself, she was OK with that, no matter how hot Tyr sometimes seemed to her. Beka was her own person. She didn't need anyone else, she reminded herself. She was rated to fly solo, and solo was how she would fly. Yes, she'd lend herself to Dylan's quest, and yes, she could admit that she really cared for all the crew, but.. She was still rated to fly solo.  
  
Lifting her chin unconsciously, Beka squared her shoulders and followed the silent man in front of her through the forest.  
  
  
  
Klaxon-like, alarms shrilled through the Com Deck as the Andromeda hurled again through Slipstream. Dylan raised his voice to be heard over them. "What's going on?"  
  
Harper's face was set, and he did not vouchsafe an answer. Trance, golden features unusually mobile, looked very distressed as she responded, "We're out of control in the 'Stream! Harper can't get us through!"  
  
"Damn it! Harper, can't you get us back to normal space?"  
  
"He's trying, Dylan! Yelling won't help!" Dylan looked at Trance in surprise, then turned his attention back to the ship's viewscreens where the eerie blue lines representing the slipstream wove by in complex, rapid patterns.  
  
Sweat dripping down the side of Harper's face attested to the effort he was expending. Andromeda's cool voice spoke from a holograph beside him. "Something blocked our path through Slipstream, and now we are being forced away from our destination."  
  
"What blocked us? What's forcing us? What is going on?" Dylan's voice was demanding, but carefully without the edge that had brought Trance to Harper's defense.  
  
"We're not sure, Dylan, but - " Andromeda's words were interrupted by the ship's abrupt exit from Slipstream. "OK, we're out of Slipstream. Analyzing location.. We're in the Govrian System."  
  
"What? That's a long way from where we wanted to be!" Dylan was exasperated. "I don't know what's going on here, but we are going to get to the bottom of it. Now, people!" Marching over to the science station, he began to concentrate; wiping the sweat from his brow, Harper moved to join him.  
  
As the day progressed, Beka's feet grew worse, until her face was twisted into a grimace of pain. By mid-afternoon she'd gotten much slower; glancing back impatiently, Tyr caught the pained look. Clearing his throat, he spoke for the first time in hours. "What's the matter, Beka?"  
  
"My feet are sore, that's all," she spoke briefly and did not meet his eyes.  
  
Tyr frowned, concern nudging through the careful wall he'd made around his feelings. "Let's see." He was just as brief.  
  
"It's fine," she replied.  
  
"Let's see," he repeated inexorably.  
  
With a sharp sigh of acquiescence, she sat on a nearby log and pulled a shoe off. Her sock was brilliant with blood, and the gasp she stifled attested to the pain of removing the shoe. For a moment, Tyr looked at her foot, face still, then he spoke. "Why didn't you say anything? It is foolish to let yourself be injured in this place; we have no first aid supplies!"  
  
Beka's eyes flashed, but she shrugged. "It's no big deal."  
  
For a moment, Tyr was silent, then, with a resigned grimace of his own, he said, "Put your shoe back on and stand on the log."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Stand on the log!"  
  
With another shrug, Beka carefully put her foot back into her shoe, rose shakily and stood up on the log where she had been perched. Tyr came up beside her, turned around and said, curtly, "Climb on my back."  
  
Not speaking a word, Beka climbed piggy-back onto Tyr's back. Moving his long locks to the side, she circled his strong neck with her arms as his reached around and clasped her thighs, holding her in place. Both were instantly aware of the intimacy of her position, and both immediately thrust that realization out of their minds. Bending forward slightly to balance her weight, Tyr walked on through the forest.  
  
"Damn it, Rommie, that's the third time!" Dylan had gone way past exasperation now, and Trance's pale, wordless urgency was not helping matters any. "I know you know a lot of ways *not* to get us back to the system, but why don't you and Harper surprise us and figure out a way *to* return, huh?" Gaze fierce, he raked the Com Deck with his eyes before walking toward the door. "Trance, a moment?"  
  
They strode off the deck together, then Trance spoke before he had a chance to. "Dylan, I don't think snapping at them will help."  
  
"Then what will help, Trance? You've been here before, right? Tell me what we can do to get Beka and Tyr back, Trance, 'cause frankly, right now, we seem to be fresh out of solutions!"  
  
Trance was silent for a moment, looking at him with unreadable eyes. "C'mon, Trance."  
  
"Actually, Dylan, I never have been in this exact situation before," Trance spoke with dignity. "However, I am quite certain that it would be in their best interests for us to return soon to Beka and Tyr."  
  
"So how do we do it?"  
  
Trance was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "I wonder what has happened to the Eureka Maru?"  
  
Dylan eyed her for a moment, thinking. "The Maru? Hmmm.." He thought some more. "Do you think the Andromeda's path is blocked but some other ship's would not be?" His voice gained excitement as he thought it through. "Good thinking, Trance! Let's go reclaim the Maru!" He whirled around and headed back to the bridge to give Harper the revised orders.  
  
The sun was setting as Tyr carefully let Beka down. Except for one barked, "Don't!" when she'd allowed her head to drop onto one arm, and inadvertently brushed her lips against his ear, Tyr had not spoken. He remained silent as he kicked needles into a mound for a bed in the sheltered area he'd found, and just as quietly melted away into the underbrush.  
  
With a sigh, Beka buried her head in her hands. She sat like that for a time, then carefully began to remove her shoes and peel her socks from her feet. Since Tyr had disappeared, she took no care to monitor her expression, and her expression was pained in the extreme as she carefully freed her second sock from the dried scabs on her heel.  
  
Tyr, from the brush, saw that look and his own grew even darker in response. Dumping the armload of firewood he had gathered, he walked to her and knelt before her, carefully examining the injuries. Shaking his head, he held his hand out for the blood-stained socks she was still holding. Still without exchanging a word, she handed them to him with a puzzled look. Still clutching her socks, he disappeared again.  
  
Beka gazed blankly at the sticks Tyr had dropped, then hobbled over to a clear area where she could safely make a fire. Awkwardly, she arranged the sticks in a rough shape like she'd seen Tyr make; she had some difficulty in the arrangement but finally stood back, pleased with her efforts.  
  
"What are you doing?" He was still holding her socks, but now they seemed cleaner and very wet.  
  
"Working on the fire."  
  
"Leave that to me. Come here."  
  
"Tyr, I think you've forgotten who you're talking to. I don't take orders from you."  
  
For a moment, they locked eyes; then, with an elaborate sigh, Tyr waved an exaggerated arm at the rock where she'd been sitting. "If you could please," his tone made the word particularly sarcastic, "be seated?"  
  
Eyeing him challengingly, Beka limped over and plopped down ungracefully. Tyr knelt before her; using her sopping socks as washrags he began to wipe the blood and dust from her feet. At her indrawn breath as he hit a particularly sore area, he looked up, his locks hanging. Again their eyes met and the sense of intimacy was inescapable. Then, Tyr's mouth tightened, and he bent resolutely back to his task.  
  
When Tyr finished his ministrations, he disappeared again with her socks. Beka frowned after him, then just sat on the rock, staring into space as she thought through their situation. This could not go on, she concluded. Who knew how long they would be stuck together on this rock? Dylan would find them eventually, she was sure, but in the meantime, she had no interest in trying to survive with this distant, faintly hostile version of Tyr. She had to do something to snap him out of this mood.  
  
Tyr was gone for a while, and when he returned he bore not only her washed out socks, but an animal of some sort that he had, thankfully, cleaned and spitted somewhere out of sight. Drawing the blaster, Tyr started the fire with a short shot, then carefully set up sticks to brace his spitted catch. Soon, the smell of roasting meat filled the clearing.  
  
Tyr hung Beka' socks on a bush to dry, then disappeared again, wordlessly assuming the Beka would tend their dinner and the fire, she noted with a twinge of resentment. The smell of the cooking meat was so good that she quickly swallowed her frustration, carefully turning the meat on the spit to roast all sides equally.  
  
In another while Tyr was back, this time with his shirt filled with fruits and greens. Beka reflected wryly, as she turned the spit again, that in terms of what they'd had lately, this was a feast. Tyr joined her by the fire, touching the outside of the meat to test its texture.  
  
"I think it's almost done," Beka offered, and Tyr nodded wordlessly in return. Gathering a handful of the produce he had gathered, Tyr retreated to a seat on the far side of the fire from her rock and began eating.  
  
Wordlessly following suit, for now, Beka picked up a couple of pieces of fruit and ate them, rising to again tend the fire. "I think it's done."  
  
Tyr set aside his food and came back to the fire. Thrusting his knife into the flames, he quickly sterilized it, then used it to hack a piece of meat from the roast. He nibbled on it a bit, testing its doneness, then, holding it between strong teeth, he bent and cut another piece, which he offered to Beka.  
  
Struggling to forget what the meat had looked like before being cooked, Beka crinkled her nose while accepting it. Both retreated to opposite sides of the fire in silence as they ate their fill, Tyr disposing of an astounding amount of protein and greens. For a long while they sat in silence, then Beka, sated, stood up and walked gingerly over by where Tyr was sitting. Standing before him, she cleared her throat and spoke.  
  
"Anasazi, I'm gettin' pretty tired of the silent treatment here." Tyr said nothing in return, so Beka continued. "I kinda thought we were friends, but I'm willing to settle for acquaintances -" her voice sounded mocking on the word - "if that's what you want. But this totally quiet, hostile thing you got going, you gotta let that go.  
  
"Who knows how long we may be stuck here, and if that weirdo Niet's gonna try something again? We've gotta work together, and that won't work if we're not even speaking to each other. So, c'mon, Tyr, knock it off, OK?"  
  
For a moment, Beka stood eyeing him challengingly, waiting for his response. When he continued to sit in silence, no longer meeting her gaze, Beka huffed out a breath and stomped, as well as she could with no shoes and sore feet, back to the other side of the fire. With a final angry glare, she wrapped herself in her cloak and lay down, determinedly closing her eyes and willing sleep to come.  
  
Tyr watched her as she stormed away, and kept watching as she lay down, her back turned resolutely toward him. How had she known? It was clear from her words that she'd figured out what was bothering him, and he gritted his teeth at her perceptiveness.  
  
He supposed that he was hardly being fair, acting as though she had done something wrong when it was he who had strayed beyond the line. He sighed a little, and, as she was safely turned away, passed his hands through his locks in weariness and frustration. OK then. She had characterized them as friends, and, he was forced to admit, they had become friends. Friends with a bit.more, he supposed. It was the "more" part that had gotten to him; even the purest Nietzschean could admit to having friends, so long as the relationships were mutually beneficial.  
  
So, friends it would be. But no more, no matter that the sight of Beka's body through the open front of the cloak she had appropriated continued to incite. No matter that her husky voice could awaken some fundamental part of himself that he'd long thought asleep. No matter that her determination, courage, strength and will to survive were as primal as any Nietzschean's, as his own.  
  
With another sigh, Tyr threw a few more branches on the fire and lay down. Closing his eyes, he too charged himself to go to sleep. Perhaps another day would make things easier between them.  
  
Tyr awakened several hours later, instantly aware. He was not sure exactly what had roused him, but whatever it had been brought all his senses into high alert. The fire before him had died down, and across its embers he could see the prone figure of his crewmate. As he looked at her, he saw her shiver, then give a short, sharp moan.  
  
Tyr took a quick inventory: nothing else was moving in the clearing around them, but the temperature had fallen to a new low. His own metabolism, fueled by the enormous meal, was compensating, but clearly Beka, even wrapped in the cloak she had taken, was feeling the effects of the cold.  
  
Silently, Tyr rose and slipped some more wood onto the fire, blowing on the embers to ensure the new timbers caught. After a brief internal debate, he crossed over to where Beka was sleeping and lay down behind her, sandwiching her between the warmth of his body and the fire in front of them. With a fatalistic mental shrug, he gathered her to him, once again wrapping her in his warmth. Her shivering quickly stopped; even in sleep she smiled, snuggling closer to him and pillowing her head on his arm. Shaking his head slightly, Tyr prepared to go back to sleep, not even acknowledging to himself how much better it felt to be lying this close to her.  
  
Wormhole Drift looked jarringly busy to the anxious, intent crew of the Andromeda, its cheerful bustle all the more alienating given the continued absence of the Maru. Dylan, wishing briefly for Tyr's intimidating presence, took the unusual step of donning his High Guard armor not for its protection, but for its threatening appearance.  
  
When he and Rommie appeared in the Office of the Portmaster, Dylan took the lead at first. "We're here to get some information?" he said to the woman seated at the desk in the outer office.  
  
"Yeah?" responded the clerk, looking up briefly from her reading.  
  
"We need to know about a ship that was docked here several days ago."  
  
"Can't help ya." The woman turned back to her flexi.  
  
Rommie, with a frown, came close to her Captain. "Dylan, let me," she whispered, placing a cautionary and unaccustomed hand on his arm. With a bemused shrug, Dylan stepped back and watched as his normally mild-mannered ship concentrated an amazing air of menace. Dylan blinked a few times, then quickly assumed the role of even more menacing backup as Rommie approached the receptionist.  
  
"We're here to trace a ship," Rommie said clearly, her voice low and smooth.  
  
"We don't give no information 'bout ships here," the gum-chewing woman retorted, punctuating her statement with an enormous bubble.  
  
Without a blink, Rommie smashed the bubble back into the woman's mouth. "We don't care what you normally give, you'll give us some information."  
  
With widened eyes, the woman reached for her desktop communicator. Her eyes widened even further as she watched Rommie, apparently without effort, crush the unit in her hand. "Now you can tell us easy, or you can tell us the hard way, but either way, you're going to tell us what we need to know, is that clear?"  
  
"Y - yes, OK, that's clear. Whaddya need?" The clerk's manner had undergone an astounding change toward the cooperative, Dylan noted ironically. "The freighter Eureka Maru docked here the day before the Salvager's Ball. Her crew was abducted. Who filed the papers to undock her?"  
  
"Wh - what Salvager's Ball? There ain't been no Salvager's Ball on Wormhole long as I've been here, and that's been more'n six years!"  
  
Rommie, puzzled, looked at Dylan for clarification, whose eyes widened slightly at the implication of that revelation. For a moment he paused, then he nodded. "OK, we docked CY 10003.86. You and Harper looked for us by CY 10003.92, right? So sometime in that period."  
  
The woman, gaze traveling between the two, nodded hastily at the clarification and bent to her terminal to look up the answer. "The Maru was released CY 10003.90 by one.hmmm... that's odd. By the Portmaster's Authority. I don't know who took her out."  
  
"Hmmm," echoed Rommie. "And where is the Portmaster now?"  
  
"Well, he's out to lunch." The clerk's eyes, glued anxiously to Rommie's normally impassive complexion, widened again at what she saw there, and she hurried into speech. "He usually eats at the SpacePort Grille, you might try him there."  
  
"We will. But if we don't find him, we'll be back." Rommie's tone skirted nicely between threat and promise, and the woman nodded hastily in agreement as Rommie and Dylan left the office.  
  
The SpacePort Grille was a dive, with a greasy, synthetic atmosphere that left an unpleasant taste at the back of Dylan's tongue. It wasn't hard to track down the Portmaster - Fillian was his name - and this time Dylan just stepped back and let Rommie take it from the top.  
  
"We're looking for information about a vessel that was docked here. You released it under your authority CY 10003.90. The freighter Eureka Maru. Who took it?" Rommie's tone was implacable.  
  
Looking at the two figures before him, the skinny, orange-skinned figure's eyes darted back and forth in his sloping forehead. "I - I.." He stuttered, clearly trying to buy time.  
  
"Spit it out." Dylan couldn't believe Rommie's voice could be so menacing.  
  
"C - can we talk about this someplace else?"  
  
"Nope. Now."  
  
Motioning them closer, the Portmaster whispered, "It could be my head if he hears I've told you, but. I got a - err - message that that ship was available, so I let Thorlo Sepp, a salvager from around here, have it. What he did with it, I don't know."  
  
Dylan frowned. "Where'd you get the message - it was wrong, by the way - that the Maru was available?"  
  
"Erm, a little birdie?" The Portmaster's smile had a pleading edge, but Rommie was not inclined to be sympathetic. Taking his hand, she bent back a finger just enough to start hurting.  
  
"Where. Did. You. Get. It?"  
  
"From the Ogami!" The Portmaster gasped, clearly not big on physical courage. "They gave me the access codes."  
  
Dylan's brows snapped into a frown, but he contained his comment. "Where can we find this Sepp?"  
  
"If he's on-planet, wh-which I'm sure he is," the Portmaster quickly added as he saw Rommie's face change, "he's got an office in Quadrant 3, Section 12. You can find a directory at the Quad border."  
  
Rommie released the Portmaster's hand. "Thank you. And next time someone - even the Ogami sisterhood - tells you that a vessel is mysteriously available, you might consider the peril in disposing of it so quickly."  
  
"I certainly will," he replied promptly. "Err - have a nice stay on Wormhole Drift."  
  
"If we don't," replied Dylan, "you're going to hear about it."  
  
"I'm getting tired of this wild goose chase," growled Dylan as they strode quickly through the streets of the Drift.  
  
"It should end soon," said Rommie, comfortingly. But when they got to Sepp's office it was closed and locked.  
  
"He just ran out!" croaked a voice from the office opposite. "Dunno what got his knickers all in a twist." The high pitched voice cackled a bit, and Dylan nodded.  
  
In an undervoice, he said to Rommie, "I'll distract her, you break in and see if you can find anything." He flicked a glance at Rommie to catch her nod, then walked smoothly across the hall while Rommie got to work.  
  
In a matter of minutes she'd found the right record. The Maru had been sold to someone on a nearby drift, Karipa, and they would probably be able to find her there. With a satisfied nod she closed the office door back and rescued her captain from his conversation.  
  
".and then my great aunt Fanny took us all out into space and."  
  
Dylan's eyes were glazed, but he managed to nod in goodbye as Rommie took his arm - again - and led him from the room. Once they had left the building, Dylan looked at her enquiringly.  
  
"I got it. We have to head for Karipa Drift.'  
  
"Let's go. And Rommie - nice work all round! I think you've been taking lessons from Tyr."  
  
"Why.yes, yes I have."  
  
"Just another reason to get him back in one piece." The two ran for the Slipfighter to head back to the Andromeda. 


	7. Survival Part 7

When Beka awoke, she knew immediately whose arms encircled her. But the knowledge didn't feel warm and comforting like it had the day before. An earlier Tyr might have been kind or even.tender, but after yesterday she was certain his warmth had been given grudgingly last night.  
  
But it had been given.  
  
Beka closed her eyes tight. She was pretty sure that he was still asleep; the muscles that lined his body did not display the ready tautness that so marked him while awake. For this private moment, she could lie beside him and acknowledge how good it felt to be held by him, dismissing the wide gulf between them. For this private moment, she could admit that while she could fly solo, she'd much rather go in tandem.with him.  
  
Snuggling slightly further into the curve of his body, Beka lay still and enjoyed. The sneering voice that interrupted her reverie was most unwelcome.  
  
"What a touching sight."  
  
Beka opened her eyes, quickly, and all around her the relaxed warmth of Tyr's body became rigid. For a moment, no one said anything further, then the disfigured Nietzschean continued, "A Niet and his kludge, what could be sweeter?"  
  
Beka sighed, closing her eyes, then gently freed herself from Tyr's arms. "OK, that's it." Completely ignoring the weapon trained upon them, she got up as she spoke, moving closer to the massive figure in front of them. "First of all, just what is your name?" Stopping, she put her hands on her hips and regarded him.  
  
Seemingly startled, the Niet blinked a few times, then said, "I am Hallow Severn, out of Mirrella by Hellorian of Urisal Pride." As Tyr got to his feet behind Beka, Hallow swung the blaster to aim it at him.  
  
"Ah," she nodded, stepping between the blaster and Tyr. "Well, Hallow, I am Beka Valentine, commanding officer of the Commonwealth Starship Andromeda Ascendant, and my partner there is Andromeda's weapons officer, Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarrosa, Kodiak pride."  
  
"Kodiak pride?" Hallow sounded surprised. "I thought they were all dead?"  
  
"Yeah, well, reports of their complete demise were a bit exaggerated," Beka retorted. "Listen." She continued with emphasis. "Are you stranded on this planet, or are you here by choice?"  
  
For a moment, the Niet was silent, then he admitted, "I've been stranded here for nearly 12 years." Again the blaster moved, and again Beka stepped in front of it.  
  
"OK," Beka sighed. "That sucks. But Hallow, you've got to knock this stuff off. Just stop it with the blasters and threats and things. Listen to me: Your original ideas about how to deal with me and Tyr are way, WAY off for a whole bunch of reasons."  
  
Hallow looked startled, but didn't interrupt other than to move his blaster so that it again pointed at Tyr, now leaning with seeming carelessness against a nearby tree.  
  
"First," Beka continued, again moving to put herself between the blaster and Tyr, "if what you want to do is get off this planet, killing us would be your worst possible choice. Our starship is out there somewhere looking for us, and if I know our crew, they're gonna find us pretty quickly. We've both got nanobots in our systems that let our ship scan for us from off-planet. If you kill us, the bots will die and no one may come here in your lifetime.  
  
"Second," Beka's voice became very bitter, "I am not a worthy breeding partner for any Niet. Just.ask Tyr." She paused for a moment, her mouth twisting. "I'm not just a kludge, I'm a mongrel kludge. My daddy was a thief and my mom. well, never mind about her. And as an added bonus, I'm a drug addict. My DNA's basically worthless, so I'm just not worth the effort." Out of the corner of her eye, Beka caught Tyr's abortive motion, but deliberately ignored it.  
  
"Finally, it's just not practical to forcibly impregnate somebody. A baby's health and well-being depends on his mother's health and well-being. Even if I did get pregnant forcibly, I can promise my choices would be either to terminate the pregnancy or terminate myself. Trust me on this." Beka looked intently at Hallow, willing him to believe her, missing completely Tyr's dark startlement. "I will kill myself rather than carry a baby to term conceived as you've suggested."  
  
For a while, Beka allowed the silence to grow, then she said, "Instead of trying to rape me and kill him, Hallow, why not work with us? Maybe if we work together we can raise the ship we crashed and fix the communications system. I don't know how long we're going to be stuck here, but I'm a fan of anything we can do to cut down on that time."  
  
She paused again, eyeing her adversary. "Doesn't it make more sense to try and cooperate? Please. put the gun down."  
  
For a moment, as she stared into the Nietzschean's misshapen eyes, the question hung in the balance, but then, with a defeated sigh, Hallow dropped his blaster arm, covering his eyes with his other hand. Beka sagged with relief, thankful that her gamble had apparently paid out. And Tyr remained determinedly distant and cool as he waited to see what would happen next.  
  
  
  
Karipa drift hung in space, dark and quiet. To the outside eye, the rock was barely occupied. However, traces of the familiar rad signature of the Maru lit up the screen on the Andromeda and elated her remaining crew.  
  
Harper was piloting, so Trance switched on the comlink as Galil and her son looked on. "Karipa Drift, this is Captain Dylan Hunt of the Andromeda Ascendant. Do you read?"  
  
For a moment, space silence crackled between the ship and the drift, then the settlement stirred sleepily to life. "Andromeda Ascendant, this is an odd hour for a social call. What can I do you for?" The male voice was gruff.  
  
"Karipa, I'm searching for a freighter, Eureka Maru. Portmaster over on Wormhole says he sold her to you. I'm here to get her back."  
  
Silence, then, "Gonna cost you."  
  
"Karipa, that ship was not authorized for release. Papers still read owner Beka Valentine, of my crew. We can-" he paused briefly, eyeing Rommie, "We can do this easy, or we can do this hard. You're in possession of stolen property which I'm prepared to return to its rightful owner for a finder's fee. Now, you want to get this done?"  
  
This time the voice sounded abashed. "OK, OK, keep yer shirt on. If the ship was stolen, then there's no more need be said. I'll just take my 50% finder's fee and you can have her."  
  
"50%? Dylan, that's an outrage!" Harper sounded truly indignant.  
  
Dylan laughed a little and fixed Harper with an amused eye as he spoke into the com. "OK, 50% of the finder's fee. It's good of you to be so noble."  
  
"Yeah, 50% of the.wh-what do ya mean, 50% OF the finder's fee?"  
  
"Captain Valentine will be truly in your debt. And just think how much better you'll like getting money instead of a jail term?" Dylan's voice grew stern on his last two words. "I'll prepare the funds transfer now, and I'm sending a pilot over to get her."  
  
"But.but." the sputters on the other end died away. "OK, OK, fine. Whatever. Maru's on port three; land yer shuttle there and be sure to bring the funds."  
  
"You got it Karipa. Hunt out."  
  
Harper grinned admiringly, shaking his head at the same time. "Sometimes, boss, you're so devious you're almost Nietzschean." At his reminder, the whole crew sobered, worrying about their absent crewmates.  
  
Hallow had the fire crackling as he and Beka chatted easily. He had earned Beka's goodwill by bringing out her clothes, which he'd retrieved from where Tyr had dropped them after the panther's attack, and Beka's slim figure was back in the outfit she'd been wearing when they'd first been captured. To himself, Tyr admitted that he missed the flashes of skin revealed by the cloak she'd been wearing earlier.  
  
Even with that clever favor, Beka had, Tyr reflected as he cleaned another small animal that he'd caught, fallen ridiculously quickly into an easy camaraderie with Hallow; she'd forgotten Hallow's threats and was focused on getting to know more about him.  
  
She did have a good point, Tyr conceded: they were much better off pooling resources. Working together instead of trying to kill each other much improved all their chances of survival. And the way she'd handled the confrontation with Hallow had been magnificent. Even he, Tyr, could not imagine refusing Beka when she put her hands on her hips and fixed that particular look on him.  
  
Not that he ever intended to let her know that. While she'd converted Hallow, he'd been dismayed at how accurately her words had echoed his thoughts of before. Her dismissal of her DNA raked at his conscience. Her vow to kill herself had stunned him; suicide was an anathema to Nietzscheans, and yet he believed she'd been completely sincere.  
  
Now, Beka was ignoring him as she dug out more of Hallow's story. Hallow - pretty gruesome name for a Nietzschean, Tyr reflected. He caught bits and pieces of the other man's responses as he moved silently around their camp, setting the animal sizzling over the fire and searching for more fruit for Beka.  
  
Just why had Hallow left the Urisal? Tyr thought, as Hallow spoke easily of his lust for travel and interest in other cultures, that the story sounded awfully suspect for a Nietzschean. On the other hand, looking as he did Hallow probably had had no chance of being chosen by a female in his own pride, so maybe escape had been his only answer.  
  
As Beka began asking more general questions, Tyr focused on the conversation.  
  
"So, where are we, do you know, Hallow? What system and planet is this?"  
  
"It's a small trader system some light years from Eillian. I didn't see too much activity when I flew in, but I was pretty occupied trying not to crash."  
  
"Why was your ship crashing?" Beka's question held only curiosity.  
  
"I'd hit a meteor and lost nav control. I tried radioing the trader planet, but got nothing before I hit the atmosphere of this Eden."  
  
Beka smiled a little at the sarcasm in that. "Have you figured out what's up with the water here? I can't drink it."  
  
"Yeah, there are some odd compounds that, after a while, even began to bug me. I had a primitive lab on my ship, so I was able to synthesize an enzyme to help me tolerate the water more. I gave you some while you were staying with me."  
  
"Oh, that's why I felt so much better."  
  
"Yeah, whatever the chemical is, it's in the produce as well as the water."  
  
"I'm beginning to feel it again. Ick."  
  
Hallow was silent for a moment. "I can go for days without the enzyme now, but if you need some sooner, we should go back to my house."  
  
It was Beka's turn to be silent. Tyr stared at her intently, but she didn't even look his way. "Thanks, Hallow," she smiled, clearly - to Tyr, who knew her well - working to charm the other Niet into further cooperation. Tyr frowned as he continued to listen.  
  
"How'd you build the house?"  
  
"Well, after a while, I came to know the Vulpa." With meaning look, he uttered a sharp bark and summoned more than a dozen furry figures out of the nearby greenery. Beka's widened eyes spoke to her surprise, and Tyr's hand fell to his blaster.  
  
A hand signal sent the creatures back into the brush, and Tyr looked sardonically at Beka, rolling his eyes at the drama. He needn't have bothered; she was still looking, fascinated, at Hallow. At this point Tyr was afraid her fascination was genuine; even he was impressed by the speed with which the wolf-like creatures had appeared and disappeared.  
  
Hallow cleared his throat modestly, and continued. "After I learned their language, they made me leader of their pack. They've been most helpful in my endeavors."  
  
"Ah," Beka said, non-committal. She flicked a glance at Tyr as he checked the meat again, and turned back to Hallow. "What's this planet like?"  
  
Tyr sterilized his knife again, and cut a piece from the meat to test it. It was done; like the night before, he cut a larger piece for Beka, and, using a leaf as a plate, handed it to her with a tiny flourish. Beka barely looked up - "Thanks, Tyr" - but Hallow leapt to his feet.  
  
"Beka, no! Don't eat that!"  
  
"What's the problem, Severn?" Tyr said sharply.  
  
"The problem, Anasazi, is that that leaf is toxic to me. For Beka it might be fatal. Once the meat has touched it, she shouldn't eat it!"  
  
Tyr was tempted to roll his eyes again, but his genuine concern for Beka made him take the leaf quickly from her fingers. He flung it into the underbrush, where a flurry of crashes signified the Vulpa's interest in the discarded flesh. Turning back to the sizzling carcass, he hacked off another piece and handed it to her directly.  
  
"Thanks, Tyr," she repeated. "And thanks, Hallow. No poison for me today, thanks!"  
  
Tyr's jaw set, but he ripped the rest of the animal in half and offered a piece to the other Niet. "Thank you, Anasazi," came the ironic reply, and then all three concentrated briefly on their meal.  
  
* * *  
  
"Whoo-hoo!" shouted Harper as he landed the Maru in her accustomed docking bay. "OK, Dylan, let her rip!" With a shudder, the Andromeda entered Slipstream, heading as close as possible to where they'd left Beka and Tyr.  
  
As Harper made his way up to the Com deck, he ran into Galil and her son near the lounge. "Hiya, pretty lady!"  
  
Harper admired the way her eyes crinkled as she returned his greeting. "Hi, Harper."  
  
"And. err. hello young man," Harper's voice had a touch of anxiety as he addressed Ian; he never knew quite what to say to the boy. "Hello, Mr. Harper," Ian piped back.  
  
Crap, thought Harper, he sounds better than I do!  
  
"Err - having fun?"  
  
"Yeah, mom's taking me on a scavenger hunt! Wanna come?"  
  
"Um, well.." Harper stared at Galil pleadingly. He didn't want to say something wrong to the boy and make her mad at him. "I'm sorry, kid, but I gotta go to Command. We're trying to rescue our crewmates. Maybe.uhh.. another time?"  
  
Galil looked approving, Harper was relieved to note.  
  
"OK, bye Mr. Harper!"  
  
"Bye, kid. See you later, Galil"  
  
Harper whistled a little as he rushed the rest of the way to the Com deck. Having the Maru back on the Andromeda somehow made the prospect of getting Beka back more real. Harper stopped whistling for a second as he considered that. Somehow getting each piece assembled, every bit of their crew back, was, like, a luck token or something. Shaking his head at his inability to articulate that thought further even to himself, Harper entered Command.  
  
"Nice work, Mr. Harper," Dylan said, brow furrowed as he piloted the ship through Slipstream. If for no other reason, they needed to get Tyr and Beka back because they represented half the crew's Slipstream piloting capabilities.  
  
Harper nodded. "How long before we get to Eillian?"  
  
"Not too much longer, now." Dylan sounded reassuring, but Trance's continued concern made part of Harper's gut clench tighter as the ship sped through the 'Stream.  
  
Beka's eyes widened as she took in the expanse of naked male backside that met her eyes. Hallow might be disfigured facially, but man, was he well- built otherwise. Down, girl, she mentally scolded herself from the greenery near the shore. Without conscious volition, her gaze crept sideways, to where Tyr was disrobing. Hallow provoked sheer amazement at his proportions, but the slight of Tyr's body made hers clench with a gut- level pulse of pure need.  
  
Divine, he was gorgeous.  
  
And then he took off his pants, and Beka's system went so far into overdrive that she staggered where she stood.  
  
Oh, my God, she'd wondered for years how he'd look naked. Beka was breathing so hard she was nearly panting. That incredible back, those long, sturdy legs, beautifully curved buttocks. Beka's mouth dried as she drank in the expanse of dark skin in front of her.  
  
Then, Tyr threw a glance over his shoulder at the greenery sheltering her, his eyes alive with mockery, and went into the lake. A flash of pale skin in her peripheral vision indicated that Hallow had joined him.  
  
For a moment, Beka stood stock still, breathing hard. Then she shook her head - Snap out of it, Valentine - and cupped her hand around her mouth.  
  
"Should I come out now?"  
  
"As you see," Tyr's voice was mocking, but she passed on the bait. She didn't think she could even pull off false protestations of innocence at this point. Yes, she'd agreed to wait while they undressed by the shore, and yes, she'd violated the unspoken part of that arrangement by watching.  
  
But what woman would blame her?  
  
Being that handsome ought to be illegal, she reflected as she made her way to the shore. Tyr and Hallow were both several yards offshore, mostly covered by the copper colored water. Each had the end of a strong, woven vine in his hand, the coils of which she was to monitor from shore.  
  
Tyr and Hallow had cooked up the plan to try to dive down to the Ogami transport and attach ropes to her. Then, Hallow would enlist the Vulpa to help pull her ashore. Maybe, if they could get the ship out of the water, they could fix enough of her to help their situation, either with communications or possibly even a spaceworthy ship.  
  
At least they're working together on this, Beka reflected as she gave a quick wave to indicate that she was ready to watch the vines. Hallow turned away, swimming quickly toward the ship, but Tyr remained for a moment, his eyes carefully searching the greenery around Beka for threats. For a flash, his intent gaze met hers, and then he turned to follow the other Niet.  
  
Warmth bloomed at his continued care of her, his vigilance. Beka knew Tyr wasn't entirely comfortable with this approach to bringing up the spaceship, mostly because he hated to leave her side. And I'm not sure the two Vulpa that Hallow has set to watch me makes either one of us less nervous, Beka conceded as she caught a glimpse of gray fur in the corner of her eye.  
  
When they'd returned to Hallow's house the day before, Tyr had been noticeably on his guard. "Don't forget," he'd cautioned Beka quietly as they drew near the stone structure, "he's a Nietzschean. Don't trust him, Beka."  
  
Hallow had joined them immediately, so Beka had not even had a chance to reply before they were entering his surprisingly comfortable abode.  
  
Hallow had acted like a proud homeowner as he showed off his house - kitchen, sitting room, three bedrooms, room for bathing, etc. He'd obviously plundered extensively from his starship to create the most comfortable areas, and the amenities delighted Beka. Gods, how she hated planets!  
  
Dusk was already falling as Hallow finished his tour. "Beka, you can have this room again - ."  
  
"Minus the bindings, I trust," Beka had felt comfortable enough to interject.  
  
"Of course." Hallow's voice had changed from warm to stilted, and Beka kicked herself for reminding him of their previous status.  
  
"Tyr," his voice continued coolly as he indicated the other bedroom, "you can bunk in here."  
  
"I will sleep with Captain Valentine." Those dark tones had been implacable, and Beka turned and met his gaze fully for the first time since she'd given him her lecture the day before. For a moment, their gazes locked, Tyr's insistent and Beka's stubborn. But, she had to concede that he had a point, they'd probably be safer sharing a room.  
  
"On the floor," she responded in just as cool a tone.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Hallow had sighed a little, looking from one to the other, and then conceded the point. "Well, Anasazi, if you need bedding you can grab it off this bed."  
  
Tyr had simply nodded, drilling Beka with a dark gaze pregnant with secrets. She had no idea what he was thinking, and just now, she didn't really care. Wrenching her gaze away, Beka turned back to Hallow. "This is a great place, Hallow."  
  
"Well," he'd agreed, "if you're going to be stuck someplace for twelve years, it's better to be comfortable." Hallow was silent for a while, considering. "Wonder how my investments have done in all this time?"  
  
Beka smiled warmly at him, thinking, for the first time, about what he must be feeling. Hallow had been cut off from the rest of space for so long. He must be a little nervous as well as eager to get back.  
  
As they made their way into his sitting room, Beka asked, "Are you excited to see your family again?"  
  
Hallow's gaze turned dark immediately, so abruptly menacing that Beka froze in her tracks. She felt Tyr, ever watchful, poised just at her back as they waited for Hallow to respond.  
  
After a pause, Hallow said, "Not exactly," in a tone that welcomed no further questions on the topic.  
  
Beka swallowed. OK, time to change the subject. "Umm, do you have foodstock for dinner, Hallow? And more of that enzyme so I can actually eat it? We've walked a long way today and I'm getting kind of hungry."  
  
"Follow me," Hallow still sounded angry, and Tyr had stuck to her back like glue as Beka followed the large man. Hallow had given her an injection - with Tyr watching closely - and then the Vulpa had brought dinner, more of the same fare they'd been eating since they had arrived on the planet.  
  
Full dark had fallen as they'd finished dinner, and Tyr, even though Hallow had changed back to pleasant and non-threatening, had remained perceptibly - at least to Beka - on his guard. Beka was contentedly full and tired, and she soon let out a yawn in the silent sitting room that made Hallow's disfigured features twist into a smile.  
  
"Sounds like you need to get some sleep, Beka."  
  
"Um, yeah, I am tired." Beka yawned again, self-consciously, then excused herself. "I'm hitting the privy and then heading to bed. Goodnight." She directed her words impartially, looking at a space between the two men, and then exited.  
  
For a long time the room was silent. Then, Tyr spoke in guarded tones. "We should try to get that ship up tomorrow."  
  
Hallow nodded, staring into the fire he'd lit earlier.  
  
"If we can swim down to her, perhaps we can attach lines and haul her up to the shore."  
  
Hallow roused himself enough to say, "Yeah, the Vulpa can help us pull her out, but they don't swim very well."  
  
"Severn?" Tyr's voice had changed. "Thanks for the help, but... If you hurt her, I will kill you." The flat monotone, a promise.  
  
Hallow had turned to meet Tyr's fierce eyes. For a moment, he stared at the other Niet, then his mouth twisted. "Since you're taking such good care of her," his voice was particularly sarcastic, "I'll be sure and watch my step." For a moment, each man was openly hostile, glaring at the other. Then Tyr had turned and walked from the room.  
  
From the barely-ajar door of the privy that she'd been peeking through, Beka had sighed. Though rationally she knew Tyr was right, that trusting Hallow was dangerous, it would certain have been easier to just relax.  
  
Her lips quirked as she walked back to her room. Relaxing, she conceded, was not something Tyr ever did well. As she came through the door, Tyr was shaking out a blanket that he'd purloined from the other spare room, getting ready to bed down in front of the fire.  
  
Without speaking, Beka had climbed into the bed. The night had been alive with tension as both lay silently in the small room.  
  
A jerk on one of the ropes at her feet brought Beka out of her reverie. She squinted at the water, trying to make out some hint of either man. Nietzscheans could hold their breath for several minutes, so she wasn't overly concerned that she could see neither.  
  
The coils of vines slowly unwound as the men swam out further. Gods, she hoped this would work. This had been such a confusing, stressful time! Before this crash, she and Tyr had achieved what she'd at least thought was a true friendship. Respect, warmth, camaraderie, and affection.. She'd felt all of those.  
  
Now, she was torn between a stronger physical attraction than she'd ever had, and resentment and hurt at his see-sawing attitudes. She just wanted to get back on the Andromeda and have everything get back to normal, as it had so many times before. Maybe then her raw feelings would subside back into something more controllable.  
  
With a sigh, Beka focused her gaze on the lake, hoping to see Tyr and Hallow surface soon.  
  
* * *  
  
Dylan sagged a little in relief as he brought Andromeda out of Slipstream again. He felt a little worn as Andromeda's musical voice confirmed they'd finally made it back to Eillian. Turning, he met Harper's expectant gaze.  
  
"What now, boss?"  
  
Dylan was ready with an answer. "Harper, I want you and Trance to stay here with Galil." He raised his hand to still Harper's protest. "I know you want to go, too, but if we run into problems, you're the only ones who have a shot at figuring out how to get the Andromeda back to that system. You need to stay here and work on that while Rommie and I try to retrieve Beka and Tyr."  
  
"But what if the Maru can't get through?"  
  
"There's nothing you could do from on board the Maru to figure things out that you can't do better here. I can pilot the Maru, and if I have trouble, I'll just come back here."  
  
Harper eyed Dylan mutinously for a moment, then his face collapsed into acquiescence. Even though his whole being strummed with an urgency to go rescue Beka, he had never seen anything like the strange Slipstream effects that had prevented Andromeda from reaching the system, and he did need to know more.  
  
The lives of Tyr, Beka, and now Dylan too might depend upon it.  
  
Dylan sipped a protein shake for energy as he readied the Maru for launch. Harper had gone over the sturdy old ship when he'd gotten her back and reported no alterations or problems. As Rommie took her place at the sensor station behind him, Dylan said, "Maru cleared for takeoff?"  
  
"Let 'er rip, Dylan, and . bring them back soon." Harper's voice was unwontedly earnest.  
  
"We'll do our best."  
  
Dylan nimbly piloted the Maru out of the Andromeda far enough to open a slip portal, then jumped into the Slipstream once again, heading for the trader system that would hopefully this time be free of Ogami. He prayed, as he left, that he could get the Maru through. 


	8. Survival Part 8

Water sluiced from his chest, dripping lower as he moved provocatively closer. Tyr watched, amused, as Beka struggled to keep her eyes front and center, ignoring the blatant temptation with which he was taunting her. All amusement faded as he met her gaze and saw the strain in her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong." It wasn't even a question, he knew her so well.  
  
Beka glanced at him as Hallow moved up beside them. Ordinarily, Tyr knew that his infuriating crewmate would be cracking jokes and innuendos with the two of them lined up there for her inspection.  
  
"Nothing. Here are the ropes." She gestured with her head as her hands were full holding them.  
  
Tyr's frown grew. Why had she grown so serious while he and Severn had been attaching the ropes to the submerged ship? It just wasn't like Beka to pass on such a good opening for teasing and taunts.  
  
Ignoring the tension between the other two, Hallow made the weird barking cry that he'd used before to summon the Vulpa. Instantly, a tidal wave of gray bipeds materialized as what looked like several hundred of the beasts appeared. Beka shuddered as the pack grew closer, and her eyes widened as Hallow stepped out of the shelter of the water to greet them.  
  
"I'll. uh. I'll just go over here then," she stammered, cheeks heating as she handed Hallow the ropes with face averted.  
  
Tyr watched her disappear into the greenery again, then stepped out himself and began shrugging on his clothes. Leathers on damp skin weren't too pleasant, but he was resigned to the sensation. As soon as he was decent, he cast a quick glance at the other Nietzschean, who had handed the vines to a couple of Vulpa and was dressing, and went after Beka.  
  
"Beka -."  
  
"Tyr, just. drop it!"  
  
Tyr was amused to note that she railed at him with her eyes closed, just in case. "I am fully clad," he offered, dryly.  
  
"Fine, fine," she opened her eyes and glared at him. "Now go do your muscleman act and help get that ship up."  
  
For a moment he stood looking at her, his brow creased, and then he swung around to go back to the group of Vulpa on the shore.  
  
Tyr used the brief walk back to worry. What was happening to them? He'd grown accustomed to the easy, relaxed relationship that they had developed on the Andromeda. Though he'd been attracted to Beka, he had rarely admitted that even to himself, and he'd never given in to that attraction. Instead, they had become companions, workout mates, colleagues, fellows-at- arms.friends, just as she had claimed, he admitted to himself with a sigh.  
  
Just as she was becoming with Hallow now.  
  
And that really bugged him. Despite his cautions, his warning to her, Beka seemed intent on forming a real friendship with Hallow, and Tyr was faintly shocked at the depth of his resentment. She'd talked almost nonstop to the other Niet since he joined them, laughing and joking, obviously enjoying getting to know him.  
  
But that wasn't right, Tyr's instincts insisted. Hallow was another Nietzschean male - a rival. No matter his disfigured face, his initial attempt to hurt and frighten Beka, now, Tyr could tell, Beka saw him as attractive and fun. Except the one time Beka had asked about Hallow's family, their every exchange was pleasant and amusing.  
  
But how could he see Hallow as a rival for a mate he didn't want?  
  
Now, every exchange, every word between him and Beka was tense and unhappy. Last night, lying sleepless on the floor of her room, he'd wanted badly to crawl up into the bed and just hold her. His mouth twisted at the thought. Just hold her? That was a disservice not only to his Nietzschean ideals, but to his drive for procreation. Yet that's what he'd been feeling. He'd known she was sleepless, too, from the tenor of her breathing and her tossing and turning.  
  
In the morning, when he'd awakened, she'd been gone. "Out running," Hallow had answered laconically, and he'd been resentful of the pang of hurt, curt when she finally returned, hot and sweaty.  
  
They'd headed directly down to the lake after that, to mount this unlikely attempt. Tyr shook his head a little, dismissing his thoughts, as he reached Hallow. With a minimum of words, the two men lined up the Vulpa, chose spots for themselves and began to pull.  
  
Beka, watching from just outside the greenery, had to admit that even seeing them naked was less exciting than watching them working to pull out the ship. Muscles bulged under smooth skin, Tyr's locks fell around him, and the men's bodies made perfect arcs of effort and strain. Wish I were a sculptor, Beka thought briefly.  
  
Grunting, shifting, stumbling in the loose sand, and pulling with all their might, the two Nietzscheans and masses of Vulpa began, finally, to make some progress. With a lurch, they stumbled forward, and Beka dodged quickly to the side to get out of the way. The men and animals pulled more, reaching the far edge of the beach, and then beginning to coil the ropes as they pulled them tauter.  
  
Beka, eyes focused on the roiling waves, gave a crow of triumph when she saw the first metallic turret break their surface. She'd ended up next to Hallow, and she smiled without reservation at him, pleased at their success.  
  
Tyr, seeing that unaffected smile directed at the other man, grew grimmer, and for the first time acknowledged a growing sense of loss and isolation. Time was when Beka would have aimed that smile at him, but he'd blown that by going all Nietzschean on her. Now, he didn't know how to get back to where they'd been before.  
  
The only thing he did know was that they had to get off of this planet, soon. Maybe, back on the Andromeda, things would get back to normal.  
  
The Eureka Maru bounced and danced through the Slipstream, her pilot flying capably even though he was wearier than he wanted to admit. So far, there was no sign of any trouble getting to the trader system that he desperately wanted to reach. The Maru progressed through the 'Stream unhindered.  
  
As Dylan flew, he wondered, as he had several times before, about what had brought the Ogami to attack them in such numbers. He knew only a little about the Ogami sisterhood's secretive culture, but he wondered if the lethal assassins had established one of their clandestine colonies in the system. That might explain the number of Ogami ships there, he supposed.  
  
But why had they been so hostile to the Andromeda? As he reviewed the sequence of events in his mind, Dylan realized for the first time that the Ogami had moved to concerted attack after he'd announced his name. His problems with the Ogami that had surfaced on Haukin Vora last year obviously continued. Damn.  
  
Well, that realization meant that he would have to do everything possible to disguise that he was the Maru's pilot, in the hope that the Ogami would not recognize the Maru as having any link to Dylan Hunt. Not too likely, Dylan thought, but possible. Once out of Slipstream, then, Rommie could pilot her, Dylan decided, and he would remain off screen of any communications.  
  
That resolve made, Dylan's thoughts turned to his ship, and to the outsiders still on board her. Galil and Ian added a lot to the crew, Dylan thought. While Trance was a more than competent medic, Galil's medical training provided the crew with an expert backup, and having Ian aboard made the whole ship seem more like -- well, absurd as this sounded, like family.  
  
Of course, it the old days it would have been impossible to have families on a High Guard warship. But, Dylan conceded, times were so different now that perhaps a model for the Commonwealth fleet that allowed for mating and families would be better received, if for no other reason than the big starships were much safer than many of the planets these days. The relative stability of life aboard ship might attract better crews - it would certain attract them in greater numbers.  
  
Dylan sighed as he thought further. Designing the Commonwealth's new High Guard fleet really had nothing to do with what he was really thinking. Dylan wanted Galil to stay. Her intelligence, independence and sweetness all evoked feelings that Dylan had not experienced for a long time.  
  
For a moment, his thoughts touched on Molly, whom he'd met on Haukin Vora. He'd thoroughly enjoyed Molly's bright insouciance, her courage and humor. Galil, who had been through so much, had nothing of Molly's light touch. And yet, the depth that Galil's experiences had given her was what most attracted Dylan. They'd both been through Hell in their own ways, and Dylan acknowledged the bond that came with the experiences.  
  
As the Maru prepared to transit into real space, distracting him from his thoughts, Dylan said, "We made it! Rommie, will you please fly the Maru so I stay out of sight?" He explained his reasoning as she moved forward, and settled back out of sight as Rommie took the controls into her capable hands.  
  
With a bound, the Maru headed for the planet that still held Tyr and Beka.  
  
On the Andromeda, Harper was sweating as Trance urged him on. "Harper, we've got to get there. Figure this out. If we don't get to that system with the Andromeda in less than a day, some of our crew is going to die."  
  
Harper gulped, and bent to work harder on getting the Andromeda to follow Dylan.  
  
* * *  
  
Tyr stared at the bulky man lounging by the light of the fire, feeling his mouth sneer without his volition. Once again, Hallow had affirmed his desire to mate with Beka, a desire Tyr saw as both abhorrent and dangerous to his crewmate. Taking a deep breath, Tyr strove to keep his voice even and dispassionate as he tried to quash the man's impulse.  
  
"You say you want to mate with my crewmate, a kludge. Consider this. Your DNA - even with its imperfections, whatever mutations that caused -" Here Tyr broke off and gestured to the other man's face, then resumed without noticing the small sound at the doorway. "Even with those alterations, your DNA is ten thousand times more pure than that of Beka Valentine. Think, man! Think what you could be wishing on your children! Myopia, arterial sclerosis, cancer, MS, any of a thousand diseases we Nietzscheans have systematically stripped from our genetic material."  
  
"Mating with a kludge, impregnating one for the perpetuation of your DNA, is worse than any act of treason you might commit. Treason and treachery are expected, but deliberately polluting your DNA, your reproductive assets, with those of such an unworthy partner, will put you beneath contempt. With that choice, you will turn your back on thousands of years of your ancestors working to make our lives the best they could be."  
  
By now Hallow was starting at the doorway, but Tyr, the need to convince Hallow to lay off Beka thrumming through his system, continued urgently. "And even if you were to stoop so low as a kludge, Beka Valentine has several strikes against her. She's older than is optimal for a human breeding partner. Her father was a thief and a smuggler, and she herself has an unfortunate tendency toward dependence. I've seen her reliant on flash, wholly addicted! Do you want that in your children's genetic makeup? Who knows what alterations her already imperfect DNA may have undergone, given her mongrel upbringing and the chemicals she has put into her body."  
  
Beka, standing in the doorway, couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd known, of course, that Nietzscheans preferred not to mate with humans, that Tyr was uninterested in her that way, but the barrage of insults and total contempt in Tyr's voice stripped away her defenses and left her devastated.  
  
Deliberately, as Tyr paused before saying on the Divine knew what other awful things about her, she cleared her throat. Taking two steps into the room, she focused on Tyr, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath to find her voice, absently noting Tyr's abruptly stricken expression and Hallow's slyly gleeful one but too focused on maintaining her control to react. Stretching out her hand, she said, simply, "Blaster."  
  
Tyr frowned, guilt and puzzlement warring on his normally impassive features.  
  
"Give me the blaster." He must have read the absolute determination in her face, heard it in the flatness of her tone, for without a word he handed her the blaster, grip first.  
  
Stepping backwards, she aimed it at them. "Either one of you sets foot in my room, I'll shoot you without a second thought."  
  
"Beka - "  
  
"Save it." Without another word, she went back to her room. Kicking Tyr's bedding out into the hall, she shut and locked the door, then collapsed on the side of the bed, finally letting the tears out.  
  
In the lounge, Hallow sneered. "That didn't quite go off the way you wanted, did it, Anasazi?"  
  
Without a word, Tyr, not trusting himself to respond, swept out of the room.  
  
  
  
"OK, I just had another idea," Galil offered, no longer diffident given their urgent need to get to the other system.  
  
"Yeah?" Harper didn't even look up from his calculations.  
  
"Could that ship that was following us through the Slipstream have mounted anything on Andromeda's hull that could be causing this aberration?"  
  
Galil was gratified to see both Harper and Andromeda pause to consider it. Harper's gaze flashed to the screen, and with a brisk nod, Andromeda said, "Scanning hull quadrants two through four. We should know in about half an hour."  
  
Harper nodded, continuing his programming efforts. "Rom-doll, can you check this over and gimme a percent likelihood that this new nav code can break us through?" On the screen, Andromeda closed her eyes for a moment, scanning, as Trance swept into Command. "Harper," Trance began.  
  
"Hang on, my golden goddess," Harper said, intent on the view screen. He sagged a little as Andromeda opened her eyes and shook her head. "Less than ten percent, Harper."  
  
"Damn! What am I missing?"  
  
"Harper," Trance began again, more insistently, "Harry said -"  
  
Before Trance could relate what her plant had told her, Andromeda's hologram flashed into existence. "Harper, unexplained device located section 44D."  
  
Harper's eyes widened. "Gimme a visual!" Andromeda faded from the screen, replaced by an outside shot of a large black trapezoid fastened to her silvery hull. "Ah-HAH!" Harper cried, elated. Turning to the anxiously hovering Galil, he swept her into a brief hug and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, pretty lady! I think you've solved our problems!"  
  
Trance, smiling, shook her head a little at his exuberance. "That's what Harry just told me about," she said, drawing an uncertain look from the exuberant engineer.  
  
"Y- yah, Trance, whatever. Rommie?"  
  
"Yes, Harper?" The holgram's voice held the indulgent tone only he could draw from her.  
  
"Wanna round up a couple of Maria bots so we can waltz outside and take a closer look at that thing?"  
  
"Closest airlock is Deck 24. We'll meet you there. And Harper?"  
  
"Yes, my beauty?" Harper paused in his dash off the Com deck.  
  
"Check your suit. I don't want to have to carry you in again."  
  
Flushing a little at the reminder of that debacle, Harper raced off to Deck 24.  
  
Dylan grimaced as Rommie searched for a clearing on the wooded planet's surface. His adrenaline was still high from the risky game of hide and seek they'd played with a group of Ogami cruisers in the system. He frowned briefly as he considered their flight out, then put the thought from his mind.  
  
Scanning the planet's surface, he found a clearing about 2 km from where Tyr and Beka's life signs pulsed with reassuring vigor. Just for a second, he savored again the relief he'd felt when he first found those signs, then he put that from him as well.  
  
"Rommie, ahead 22 degrees. Small clearing. Can you land the Maru there?"  
  
Rommie answered with certainty, "Yes."  
  
Dylan grinned at the faint indignation in her tone. "OK, then, take her in."  
  
In her reflection off the forward viewglass, Dylan could see Rommie's lips curve in response to his amusement, but her eyes remained intent as she piloted the Maru to the clearing. The planet's suns had just crossed the horizon on this hemisphere; the early morning dew made the trees sparkle in the light.  
  
Despite the beauty, they could have wished for fewer branches, Dylan thought absently as Rommie expertly set the Maru down among them. On the other hand, perhaps the dense greener would prevent anyone else from spotting the Maru, just in case the Ogami got curious.  
  
As Rommie unbuckled and slid the Maru's piloting chair backwards, Dylan moved to the weapons locker and grabbed force lances for them both. "What say we give them a wakeup call, Rommie?"  
  
"A good idea." Rommie's voice was slightly muffled as she bent over the scan display. "Dylan, there are many life forms on this planet. I'm reading at least one Nietzschean besides Tyr."  
  
"Well, let's go see what we've got here." The Maru's cargo doors swished open and Dylan and Rommie cautiously exited the craft.  
  
Beka had not slept well. Tyr's cruel words echoed in her mind, reinforcing her sense of distance and isolation. Anguished, Beka realized in that long and lonely night that her relationship with Tyr was broken beyond repairing.  
  
That relationship had.meant something to her. She completed the thought with difficulty, not wanting to admit it even to herself. She'd called it friendship, but, really, now that any possibility of it had been removed, she had to admit that it had been something more than friendship, at least from her perspective.  
  
She had.she searched again for the word. She had trusted Tyr, trusted him to hold her in some affection and respect. Earlier, on this hellhole of a planet, she had briefly hoped that he felt even more than affection, but throughout she had counted on his respect.  
  
Now, she knew she didn't even have that. Bitterness and anger pulled at her as she again thought of his disparaging, contemptuous tone. Now, she knew exactly what he thought of her and her kind. She could, she reflected sadly, have done without the lesson.  
  
A stir outside her door made her sit up, clutching the blaster. She didn't want to see either one of them yet; she needed more time to shore up her defenses. Catching the murmur of voices in the hall, she swung her legs over and was perched on the side of the bed when the door softly opened.  
  
"If you take one step into this room, I will shoot you," she warned flatly.  
  
"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me." With incredulous delight, Beka recognized the tones of her captain.  
  
Dropping the blaster with a clatter, she sprang out of the bed. "Dylan!" She heard his "oof" of surprise as she threw herself into his arms, and she had to hold desperately onto self-control to keep from breaking into tears as they closed comfortingly around her.  
  
"Beka?" he questioned, his voice concerned.  
  
Beka said nothing, burrowing further into his hug as Tyr, Rommie and Hallow hovered in the hall.  
  
"Beka, what's wrong?" Dylan's voice grew more insistent, and Beka huddled against him for one more minute before drawing herself up.  
  
"Nothing, Dylan, I'm just very glad to see you." Though her voice lacked conviction at the start of that sentence, by the end her sincerity rang through the room. Avoiding Tyr and Hallow, Beka crossed to Rommie and gave her a hug, too.  
  
"Now, what say we make tracks here, OK? I am very ready to be gone."  
  
After a searching look that Beka met with some difficulty, Dylan agreed. "OK, let's go."  
  
With no further ado, the entire party, including a jubilant Hallow and a quiet Tyr, left Hallow's stone house.  
  
"So, Tyr, how are you?" Rommie's voice held the edge of sarcasm usually present when she addressed the Nietzschean. "And who's your friend?"  
  
Despite his careful control, Tyr's eyes flashed at the second question. Otherwise, he ignored her, striding solidly behind Dylan and Beka.  
  
"I am Hallow Severn, out of Mirrella by Hellorian of Urisal Pride. And you are?"  
  
Tyr listened as Rommie spoke with the other Niet. He felt miserable. He, too, had been sleepless the previous night, surprised anew by the depth of guilt and remorse he felt for causing Beka such hurt.  
  
That she had been hurt he had no doubt. He knew her well enough to understand what his words probably meant to her. He'd cursed himself countless times during the night, wishing futilely that he'd heard her in the doorway before he'd spoken. He had been trying so hard to deflect the predatory Nietzschean that he'd been deaf to her presence.  
  
Though he'd been focused on convincing Servern to leave Beka alone, he wasn't sure himself of the validity of his own words. Once, he had felt like that, embraced the purist's view. Today, however..  
  
Well, it seemed a moot point. Judging by the way Beka nearly clung to Dylan, he wasn't going to get a chance to explain any time soon. With a brief sigh, he resigned himself again to being alone. He was very afraid that he'd destroyed their friendship, and Beka was the closest thing to a friend that Tyr had. Bathed in his grim thoughts, Tyr stalked on, alone.  
  
* * *  
  
Harper studied the components spread out before him, his brow crinkled in a ferocious frown. Just retrieving the device had been difficult; several booby traps had made Harper glad that Maria bots were replaceable. Finally, they'd managed to detach the mysterious box from Andromeda's hull and bring it into his machine shop.  
  
Now that he was alone with it, Harper was hopelessly confused. How did this thing work? This was technology that he had never seen before, and its existence did not please him. How could he retain his Technology King title if undefined beings slipped slick new stuff past him? This simply wasn't right!  
  
Gingerly, Harper leaned down and rearranged the device's components. This was likely a power source, he thought, and this, some kind of power regulator. The wires were familiar, as well, so Harper was pretty sure he could disable the thing. But.the central piece, the part that the power source fed into, that he hadn't seen before. As he stared at it longer, however, a certain familiarity began to dawn.  
  
Whatever this piece was, it bore more than a passing resemblance to the tesseracting machine that he and the Perseid Hoehne had created some time ago. Hmmm. Some form of tesseracting technology.. Uncharacteristically silent, Harper stood stock still tapping his chin with one finger as his clever brain considered and discarded scores of possibilities.  
  
Well, he couldn't be sure without further tests, but Harper thought the box had probably been somehow fired onto Rommie's hull by the ship following them through the Slipstream. When that ship had activated this box, the device had somehow generated a tesseract that had prevented them from successfully 'Streaming to the trader system.  
  
Harper's brow wrinkled further as he considered that. What could possibly have been so important in that system? Shaking his head, Harper dismissed that as unimportant. Bending over the device, he jumped when the voice sounded just at his shoulder.  
  
"Have you figured it out?"  
  
"Geez, Rommie, gimme a heart attack will ya?" Harper shook his head, fixing the hologram with a wounded glare.  
  
"My apologies, Harper. Now, have you figured out how to disable this?"  
  
"I think so." A mischievous light lit his gaze. "Hang on honey; she might blow!" Bending over, he reached with clippers to cut a few wires, ignoring Rommie's alarmed "Harper - !" behind him.  
  
Wires safely cut, Harper deposited the clippers on a nearby bench with a clatter and turned to Rommie with a wide-eyed, innocent gaze. "What's up, Rom-doll?"  
  
The hologram rolled her eyes at him before disappearing without another word, leaving Harper chuckling in the empty room.  
  
Once again, her voice made him jump. "Harper, get to Command so we can try to reach Dylan!"  
  
Shaking his head, Harper narrowed his eyes and stalked toward the Command deck, vowing revenge. In a very few minutes, the Andromeda disappeared into the Slipstream.  
  
In the Maru's pilot chair, Beka closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The chair embraced her with its familiar contours, and she sank into it, muscles relaxing that she hadn't even realized were tense.  
  
She had worried that she might never sit there again, and even though she was still miserable, just being on her ship, her home, made her feel better. As she prepped the Maru for launch, Dylan stepped up behind her. "There are, uh, a few Ogami out there." His voice sounded apologetic.  
  
"Yes?" Brows raised, she turned to look at him for a moment, frowning at his emphatic look. "So.how few?"  
  
"Anywhere from a dozen to a hundred cruisers and fighters. We dodged 'em coming in, but they may be on the lookout now."  
  
"Great. Any other good news?"  
  
"The Andromeda couldn't, when I last left her, get into this system."  
  
"What?" Beka was really startled by that news. "Why couldn't she get here? What prevented her?"  
  
Dylan shook his head. "Not sure. That's what delayed us, though."  
  
"So, you're telling me that we'll be facing maybe hundreds of Ogami fighters without any backup?"  
  
"Yeah, that's.basically what I'm telling you."  
  
Tyr's deep voice sounded from behind Dylan. "Perhaps we should remain here until they lose interest?"  
  
"No way," Beka said flatly. "I want to get off this hunk of rock!"  
  
"Even," Tyr countered evenly, "if you kill us all doing it?"  
  
Beka's mouth twisted bitterly. "Except for you, that'd be no great loss, right Tyr? If you're so worried, you're welcome to stay put while we make a run for it!"  
  
Dylan frowned as he put a quieting hand on Beka's shoulder. "Tyr, I think the bigger planet in this system is an Ogami homeworld. I'm not sure they'll ever lose interest."  
  
Dylan was watching Beka, but Beka, turning with a dawning realization in her eyes, nailed Tyr with a look. "Ogami," she said in a note of discovery. "That's interesting, isn't it, Tyr?" Her voice was pure poison as she spoke his name. "Dylan, why not ask Mr. Anasazi why the Ogami are so interested in us?"  
  
With raised brow, Dylan turned to regard Tyr. "Well? Do you know anything about the Ogami, Tyr?"  
  
A pause, then, meeting Dylan's gaze, Tyr said, "No more than you. Clearly someone has hired them to kill you, but we've known that for months."  
  
"Since Hauken Tau," Dylan agreed. "Still, it does seem interesting that they are back on my tail now, doesn't it?"  
  
"And on Tyr's. Tell them, Tyr, what the Ogami on our ship wanted. I don't think I ever got that clear myself." Her voice continued to be poisonously sweet, and Tyr acknowledged, privately, that the darts were hitting home.  
  
After a moment, Tyr answered, "I never got a clear picture of what the Ogami wanted with me. I argued briefly with them, but at that time my primary concern was securing adequate care for you." He met her gaze levelly, and after a moment, Beka dropped her eyes.  
  
The pause continued, uncomfortable, until Dylan sighed. "Well, if you don't know any more, Tyr?" He paused to confirm that with a look, then continued, "Then we might as well go for it. I don't think waiting will improve our chances any. But hang on, everybody, cause things could get a little rough out there."  
  
As Tyr and Hallow moved to secure themselves in, Beka squared her shoulders, sighed once more, and lifted off. The Maru blazed a beautiful trail as it roared out of the planet's atmosphere.  
  
As soon as they left the planet behind, Beka knew they were in trouble. Dylan's upper range had underestimated the total number of fighters flying through the system tenfold, and before she could even begin to maneuver, the Maru was surrounded. Beka flinched subtly as her com crackled to life.  
  
"Eureka Maru, you are trespassing in restricted space. Please prepare to land on the planet before you."  
  
"Dylan?" Beka questioned in lieu of an answer.  
  
Dylan turned to Rommie, at the sensor station. Rommie spoke gravely. "We are completely outgunned and surrounded. Attempting resistance would be futile. We should comply."  
  
Beka closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. "Will this nightmare never end?" she asked under her breath. Nietzschean hearing, catching her despair,shared it.  
  
After a moment, Beka thumbed open the com. "This is the Eureka Maru. I read you, but we have intended no trespass. Let us go, and we'll never come near this system again, I promise you."  
  
Despite everything, Tyr smiled a little as he heard this. That was Beka. She just never gave up.  
  
The crackling silence again broke with the rough voice. "Eureka Maru, we suspect you are carrying designated targets. Land immediately or you will be destroyed."  
  
"Damn." Beka spoke through gritted teeth. "Dylan, I don't like the sound of that."  
  
"I don't either, but all we can do is do what they ask and hope Harper gets the Andromeda here soon."  
  
Beka sighed again as she turned to comply. "You're the boss," she said, and with a steady hand she flew among the escorting fighters to the planet's surface below.  
  
On the Andromeda, Trance grew graver. "Hurry, Harper!"  
  
"Geez, I'm goin' as fast as I can! Can I get a little break here?" The Andromeda danced in Slipstream, its movements reflecting their urgency.  
  
"Just.hurry."  
  
Hot dusty air blew in as the Maru's doors opened. Beka, flanked by Tyr and Hallow, squinted as the sunlight's glare dazzled her eyes. Beside her, Tyr slipped on sunglasses and Hallow shaded his eyes with a massive hand.  
  
Several dozen Ogami quick-marched to the Maru. Stopping before the waiting trio, they snapped out orders in their native roar. One Ogami moved to the front to address them. "You will lay down your weapons."  
  
"Sure, whatever you say," Beka answered flippantly, ostentatiously removing a blaster from the small of her back. Tyr and Hallow followed suit, removing weapons that they had stored about themselves for just this purpose.  
  
Any hope that they might be allowed to keep their better-concealed arms died a quick death at her next words. "Our scans show twelve additional weapons. Remove them now!"  
  
With a grimace, Beka and the others complied. Tyr's blades, her smaller blaster, Hallow's newly-issued forcelance all found their way to the deck in front of them. The Ogami leader silently counted the twelve, then nodded once, sharply.  
  
"You will now come with us." Turning, she led the way at a brisk walk. Beka, the strain of the previous night and day catching up with her, slipped a little as she stepped off the Maru onto the dusty ground. Tyr's hand at her elbow, steadying her, ran a shock through her system. For a moment she paused, leaning slightly on his strength, and then she pulled away and fell into line among the Ogami.  
  
Tyr, walking behind her, absently rubbed his fingers where they had touched her skin. Things did not, he thought, look good. Though they'd concealed Dylan in one of Beka' hidden holds, there was no certainty that he'd stay hidden, given the sophisticated scanning technology the Ogami had displayed.  
  
And how useful would that weapons scan be out in the real world? Tyr pursed his lips and whistled soundlessly as he considered it. If he were still in the mercenary business, he might've had to leave it if a scan that accurate became widely available.  
  
But that was beside the point. Tyr thought, dispassionately eyeing the weapons surrounding him, that his chances for survival were not very good. Dwelling on that thought, his mood darkened. He knew the Dragan had put a large ransom on his head, knew the Ogami weren't picky about how they earned their assassin fees, knew that he would likely die here. If he made it off this planet, he'd be more than surprised, even if the Andromeda arrived to try to help.  
  
Dylan, too, was at great risk, given the contract apparently on his head. Only Beka, Hallow and Rommie had decent odds of getting through this.  
  
As Tyr thought through this, a great wave of feeling rolled over him. He would die, and Beka and Hallow would live. All his plotting, all his striving, all his efforts coming to this? No children, no family, no legacy.and so little joy. Only cold duty, that's all he'd had. That's all he'd chosen.  
  
As Tyr walked through the dusty field, his unquiet thoughts walked with him, tormenting him.  
  
* * * 


	9. Survival part 9

The clang of the cell door closing made Beka shiver. It sounded so final, so remorseless. With a sigh, she slid down to a crouch, bracing her back against the cold bars of their cell, cradling her injured hand. For a while she stared blankly at the stained floor before her, grappling with what had happened as the footsteps receded down the hallway.  
  
When they'd arrived at the Ogami settlement, they'd been immediately marched to a large windowless building set apart from the rest of the structures. The closer Beka got to the building, the more she disliked it; an indefinable stench of despair hung in the air around it.  
  
The building clearly housed the Ogami's penal system, since Beka got a glimpse of barred cells as they were hustled into what appeared to be a hearing room. For a short while, they waited, Beka avoiding the eyes of both Nietzscheans. Chilled, she ran her hands up and down her arms as the stone-faced Ogami held weapons trained on all three of them.  
  
That was bad, that feeling of cold fear and isolation, but things quickly got worse. A stir at the door signaled the end to the waiting, and the sight of Dylan and Rommie, Dylan bruised and beaten, appalled her. She'd worried that he might be discovered in her hold, and his condition and the viciousness with which the Ogami guarding him pushed him toward their small, forlorn group spoke of a heated battle.  
  
Beka took an impulsive step toward him, checking quickly at the unmistakable command from the Ogami closest to her. Dylan staggered at the shove, but continued without assistance, his gaze calm and his head held high. For a moment, their eyes met, and Beka squared her shoulders and raised her own chin in response to the unspoken command in Dylan's gaze. The opening door at the opposite end of the room signaled the entrance of additional Ogami, and the stance that their phalanx of guards assumed made the status of the newcomers clear.  
  
The three Ogami who entered stood silently before a table, regarding the five prisoners. Beka, eyes on the new threat, felt more than saw Tyr move subtly closer to her; otherwise, the chamber was completely still. After a long pause, one Ogami spoke in garbled Common, uttering the words that Beka most dreaded.  
  
"Dylan Hunt and Tyr Anasazi. Your identification has been confirmed. You are designated targets for the Ogami sisterhood, with contracts verified and remunerated. You are therefore sentenced to standard execution at Chr.4298, with no possibility of appeal."  
  
Beka heard the death sentence with incredulous despair. This was it, then. The end of the road. And she couldn't even conceive of going on alone, with both of them gone. Beka's torment was so great she almost missed the next words.  
  
"Companions of Hunt and Anasazi, you attempted to hide confirmed Ogami targets from the Sisterhood. You are therefore sentenced to Work Detail for 27 Standards, no possibility of appeal.  
  
"Take them away."  
  
As their guards moved closer to herd them from the chamber, desperation filled Beka, and she kicked her dismayed mind into gear. "Wait.WAIT!" Ringing through the chamber, her voice halted the departure of the commanding Ogami.  
  
Urgently, Beka marshaled her thoughts, only to be interrupted by Hallow. "Ogami leaders," he bowed unctuously, "I am no part of this crew. I claim combat rights of resistance."  
  
A startled pause, then the Ogami at the door spoke. "What know you of rights of resistance?"  
  
"I know that any Ogami prisoner may claim them, regardless of sentence. I know that combat is one form. I know that your own laws and customers bind you to accept this claim."  
  
"I claim the same for us all." Dylan's voice rang sure in the high- ceilinged chamber.  
  
"I claim - err - reimbursement rights." Beka sounded less sure, but she was going to give this a try.  
  
"We have no such thing as reimbursement rights."  
  
"Listen - you want to earn your contract fee, right? I'll pay you ten times that fee and purchase the contract from you. Reimbursement for your trouble. And nothing to stop you from working on the original contract later, if you choose."  
  
"Impossible. The Ogami accepts only one customer per target." Silence, then, to Dylan, "And as for your claim, you may not claim combat on behalf of any other than yourself. Given the beating you've already taken, are you certain you want to fight 20 armed Ogami every day for a week? Your chances of survival are.very poor."  
  
Dylan's eyes widened fractionally as he took that in, but his certainty remained. "Poor is better than none. Yes."  
  
"As do I," Tyr's velvet over steel voice easily carried to the front door.  
  
"Count me in," echoed Rommie.  
  
"Me, ahh.too," said Beka, yielding to the inevitable, despite Tyr's quick frown.  
  
Again the Ogami were silent for a moment. "So be it," said the leader. "Combat to commence at Chr.4217. Now take them away." Despite the blurred enunciation, the Ogami leader's exasperation came through clearly.  
  
As the Ogami herded the small group toward the area where Beka had earlier glimpsed cells, Tyr's big body moved right beside her, radiating warmth and solidity in the brush of his arm against hers. His restless gaze, carefully cataloguing their surroundings, evaluating, she knew, potential weapons, weaknesses, escape routes to ensure their survival, unexpectedly pinned her with its intentness. For several steps they walked in tandem, gazes locked together. Beka felt her eyes widen under the impact of that heated, meaningful look. No more distant Tyr here; he had once again apparently altered, and even her dragging despair from the Ogami's verdict couldn't entirely dampen down her pulses' glad leap as she found again such warmth in his eyes. Despite everything, Beka felt her lips curve as Tyr's gaze returned again to its relentless examination of the Ogami stronghold. She missed entirely the fulminating glare from the taller Nietzschean marching behind them.  
  
"Nice trick, Severn. Anything else you want to let us in on?" They had barely reached the cell when Tyr started in on the massive Nietzschean.  
  
To his surprise, Beka was right there with him. Her "Yeah, Hallow, after all we've meant to each other" resonated sarcasm, and she'd fixed the tall man with the Look, only interrupting her glare to glance at Rommie clucking over Dylan as the Captain gingerly sat.  
  
Hallow looked defiant. "Not really."  
  
"For the Divine's sake, Hallow!" Beka exploded. "What is wrong with you? When you're facing a superior force --."  
  
"Nothing about the Ogami is superior."  
  
"No? How about the fact they they've put YOU in a prison cell? With us? Your allies? Your compatriots in crime? How can you say they're not superior when you're stuck in here?" Tyr moved unobtrusively forward as Beka frowned for a moment, honestly puzzled. "Hallow, what's changed? Why are you so.different?"  
  
For a moment, the large Nietzschean stilled. Defiance flared again in his damaged gaze as he returned, "Different? I don't know what you mean."  
  
Tyr sighed a little as he saw hurt dawn in Beka's eyes. Really, he'd put up with quite enough from that quarter. "Beka," he said, his tone gentle. Her eyes flew to his, and in response to the slight tilt of his head toward Dylan, she surprised him by complying immediately, exhaling sharply and turning away from the massive Nietzschean.  
  
As Beka crouched beside Dylan, Tyr turned back to the other Nietzschean. His tone was not friendly. "What else do you know?"  
  
For a moment, the taller man eyed him, gaze made fearsome by the way his expression twisted his disfigured features. "Funny how I have value now, isn't it?"  
  
Tyr regarded him, impassive.  
  
"Did she think I wouldn't figure it out? The only reason she's been friendly, chatting me up - the only reason - is to get to you. That's it. Why pretend further now?"  
  
Tyr looked up at the hulking figure. Severn's fists clenched as Tyr allowed pity to find its way to his features. "Severn," he drawled, "the only thing you hear is your own inferiority whispering in your ear. Captain Valentine can be contrary, but she's rarely politic or manipulative. She talked to you because she enjoyed it."  
  
Tyr's complete dispassion, the indifference with which he spoke, seemed to convince the other man. Severn exhaled, leaning a little against the bars behind him. For a moment his tormented gaze touched on Beka's kneeling figure, his superior hearing, Tyr knew, easily deciphering her murmuring inquiries as to her Captain's condition. Then, a darkness seemed to drop from his features, and he looked back at Tyr, compliant.  
  
"I don't know anything much else; I just remember an uncle of mine crossed the Ogami and lived by the challenge we just issued. I wish," he sighed heavily, "I knew more. I have no desire to finally make it out of exile only to die."  
  
Pity again took Tyr as he regarded the other man's bleak expression, but he would never fully forgive Severn for his original intent toward Beka. Indeed, Tyr thought briefly, Beka's apparent willingness to overlook Severn's intended rape astounded him. For a moment he puzzled anew over that, his eyes on her slim figure, then her eyes lifted to his and the warmth in her gaze drove the thought from his mind.  
  
With difficulty, Tyr forced himself to pay attention to the other Niet. "None of us is ready to die. We all want to survive."  
  
To that, Severn evidently had no reply. Tyr leaned against the bars beside the taller Niet, his thoughts still bleak but warmed by Beka's frequent looks in his direction.  
  
"So, how is he?" Beka spoke softly, part of her attention on the two tense Nietzscheans behind her.  
  
"He has several injuries, but will survive - if the Ogami allow it," Rommie returned. "How are you Beka? Dylan has been concerned about you and Tyr."  
  
"We've also survived - so far. Things have happened pretty quickly."  
  
Rommie nodded, her gaze bleak. "Don't they always?" she asked ironically. "I just hope Harper can get here.rapidly."  
  
Beka smiled over at Tyr, lounging next to Hallow, before agreeing wholeheartedly with Rommie. "Me, too."  
  
Rising to her feet, Beka rubbed her hands over her bare arms again as she walked the circumference of their cell, looking carefully at its structure. Several cameras followed her motion, and she easily picked out the microphones mounted on the ceiling. They appeared to be under constant visual and audio surveillance. She still had the lockpicks in her bra - she'd had them made in all her bras - but could she even get them out undetected?  
  
As her perambulations took her closer to the Nietzscheans, Tyr's scent drifted to her, and she took a deep breath to draw it into her lungs. Closing her eyes for a moment, she savored the scent, again allowing herself to feel the warmth of him, the intensity of her own response. That intensity gave her an idea; she stopped in front of him and fixed him with a meaningful look.  
  
Tyr's eyes widened at her closeness, and then narrowed a little at the intentness in her gaze. He immediately picked up the sub-text in her next words. "Tyr," she breathed with an odd emphasis, "hold me."  
  
For a moment he weighed her intent, then, ignoring his clamoring senses, he stepped deliberately closer and gently enfolded her in his massive arms. Her arms clasped around his waist, and for a second she simply held him, hard, relaxing into his embrace with an odd little sigh.  
  
Then, Beka took a small step, angling them both so that their bodies hid her right arm from view. As she rested her cheek against his chest, her arm came up between them, unzipping the shirt she'd changed into on the Maru. Finally gleaning her intent, Tyr angled a little more, giving her space to reach inside her bra to work out the slim silver tools while their embrace hid her actions from the camera's view.  
  
Tyr took a deep breath as the feel of her rioted through his senses. He extended his control as her hand moved against his chest. The bare skin of her breast momentarily brushing against him as she struggled to remove the lockpicks inflamed him, but he held tight to his control. This is no mating ploy, he firmly instructed his instincts. It's about survival.  
  
Still, he reveled in the feel of her in his arms, and the tiny clink that spoke of her success in freeing the tools disappointed him. He couldn't allow this to end yet. Tyr blinked, licking his lips, then moved his left hand to lift her chin. The desire scorching from his eyes drove the mischievous triumph from hers, and then he saw no more as his mouth claimed hers.  
  
Beka's success in liberating her lockpicks elated her, but Tyr's sizzling gaze stopped that and every other thought. As his lips met hers, all she could think was, At last. Finally, they had made it. They had come..home. There, in the dingy cell, under the bemused gaze of her Captain and crewmate, Beka cast her whole heart unprotected into Tyr's keeping. She could no more resist the feelings of completion than she could resist the desire flaming out of control as his clever mouth moved over hers. And then she could think no further, only feel, as his kiss shattered through her system. She barely kept hold of the lockpicks as her arms crept under his locks, around his neck, holding him to her.  
  
Tyr cursed himself as the clatter of the cell door opening shattered his complete absorption in Beka. How could he have forgotten their surroundings, their danger? Gently, he broke the kiss, holding her trembling body close as she gasped for air against his chest. His own chest lifted as he breathed deeply, trying to clear his thoughts. As three Ogami entered the cell, Beka stiffened, clearly sharing his abrupt return to awareness of their surroundings.  
  
Beka turned in his arms, putting herself between him and the Ogami. A smile touched his lips, still glistening from their kiss, at the gesture, as his gaze tried to divine the intruder's intent. The smile disappeared and he smoothly set her behind him as the Ogami moved in their direction, but the mercenaries stopped in front of the other Niet. For a moment, Tyr's eyes met the embittered gaze of his fellow Nietzschean, and then Severn turned away, obeying Ogami's insistent gestures.  
  
From behind Tyr, Beka made an indignant noise and moved beside him, her anxious gaze fixed on Severn's retreating back. This was it, then. Hallow would face his first challenge by combat. The worry she felt marked her voice as she called after him, "Good luck, Hallow!"  
  
The taller Nietzschean stopped short at her words, glancing over his shoulder as if to gauge the sincerity of her words. When his eyes met her anxious ones, he nodded shortly in acknowledgement, then walked out of the cell. The door clanged closed behind him, and Beka watched the locking mechanism carefully, lockpicks still hidden in her hand.  
  
* * *  
  
Once the Ogami had retreated with Hallow in their clutches, Beka eyed again, with apparent idleness, the cameras surrounding them. Only one focused on the door; Beka squinted as she calculated camera angles and timing. Perhaps she could-  
  
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the clasp of a strong brown hand on her upper arm. Beka frowned as Tyr dragged her over by the very area she'd been watching, but her frown fell away as he backed her up against the cell door with unmistakable intent.  
  
For a split second, Beka paused, eyes wide, as she looked at the handsome face so near hers. She felt breathless, almost witless at the strong tide of emotion flowing through her. Only hours earlier she'd been so angry with this man that she could have shot him with very little provocation. Now, she knew that that anger had arisen from the depth of her passion for him.  
  
This emotional see-saw wore on her, and added to it the strain of captivity and potential death. For a moment, Beka reeled perceptibly, color draining from her skin.  
  
Tyr had been watching her with unmistakable intent, but as her face whitened, his emotions shifted and his clasp turned from passionate to comforting. Instead of kissing her senseless - as she was apparently already near senseless, he reflected wryly - he moved to simply hold her, cradling her against his broad chest. Tenderness took him as he felt her melt into his embrace.  
  
This, he supposed, would work as well as the other way he'd planned to hold her. It would probably distract him less, as well. Subtly, Tyr moved his arm until his hand found hers. He relieved her slack grip of the lockpicks, and pressed more of his body against hers, backing her more firmly up to the cell door, so that he could attempt to wield them.  
  
Beka's eyes widened as he turned the tables so neatly on her earlier move, and then she relaxed back into his arms, content to be close to him. For just a moment, she put her restless mind on hold, dismissing all the cares of her situation, and reveled in the feel of his body pressed against hers. She heard Dylan's gasp from across the cell, Rommie's quiet murmur explaining, and then she simply stood and breathed and felt him all along her.  
  
A subtle clink spoke of either success or failure, and Beka tilted her face up to his to discover which. That disturbing gaze was fixed on her again, a small smile dancing in the back of it. She interpreted this as success, and her own smile grew in return. Once again Tyr's strong hand sought her face, but this time she raised her chin to reach his mouth herself. His hand splayed along the front of her neck as she opened her lips for another kiss.  
  
Though he dimly perceived that any delay in using their opened door threatened their survival, Tyr couldn't resist one more taste of the lips so temptingly within his reach. No time for subtlety now, and no way to know when he might get to do this again. Tyr crushed Beka's mouth under his, loosening slightly the rigid control that so characterized him. For a moment he gave his strength and hunger free rein; for a moment he let her see what it might be to be wanted by a Nietzschean.  
  
To his delight, she met that passion head on. No more lightheadedness or dizziness, she returned kiss for kiss, caress for caress until the gentle flame he had meant to start threatened to explode beyond control. With great difficult, Tyr gentled his embrace, softened his kiss. Though he was more than intrigued by the quality of her response, now was certainly not the time to explore further.  
  
Tyr stopped kissing her, straightening with reluctance. His gaze touched her face as he stepped back, but her downcast eyes defeated his attempt to discover what was written in her gaze. With her lips still swollen from his assault, she enticed him, but he forced himself to focus on survival. They had to get off this planet, and then. then he would see if he could make that fire burn even hotter.  
  
Keeping one reassuring hand on her arm, Tyr turned to Dylan and Rommie. Meeting the sternly shocked gaze of his Captain, Tyr smiled faintly, then gestured with his head to the now-unlocked door. Dylan's eyes widened in understanding, and for a moment apology touched his expression - an apology, Tyr thought sardonically, that he certainly did not deserve. His kissing Beka had not just been part of the plan. Kissing Beka had been irresistible.  
  
Dylan, wincing a little, got to his feet, and he and Rommie moved up near the door. Almost as soon as Tyr swung it wide, dashing down the hall in a direction opposite where the Ogami had taken Hallow, alarms began to sound. Tyr watched in a rage as a gate before him slid closed; with an adrenalin- driven wrench he stopped it in its tracks, straining to keep it open as Beka, Dylan and Rommie slithered through.  
  
Tyr quickly followed, and Beka, leading the wall, called back to him as she hit another corridor. "Direction?"  
  
"Go right!" he shouted, pelting along the hard floor. Beka led the others right, and all four fetched up hard against another gate that had already closed. Tyr shouldered his way to the front, Beka's lockpicks still in hand, and frantically began to work on the lock as running footsteps sounded ever louder behind them.  
  
The barking commands of the Ogami's native language sounded just behind them, and Tyr aborted his attempt, whirling instead to face the fighters running toward them. With a quick glance at Dylan, he moved to one side of the broad corridor as Dylan took the other. Rommie and Beka stood firm in the middle, ready to fight.  
  
Before Tyr could begin the attack, however, a strange hissing noise began above them, and clear walls dropped down all around them.  
  
"Gas!" gasped Beka, beginning to cough. Even with his enhanced Nietzschean physiognomy, Tyr could only resist its effects long enough to break her fall as she collapsed. Agony took him as the chemicals tore through his lungs, then all went black.  
  
As the Andromeda emerged, finally, into normal space in the system where they'd left Tyr and Beka, Harper and Trance's disquiet prevented even a congratulatory murmur. Trance's certainty that danger threatened the others imminently drove them; as soon as Andromeda's scans registered the several hundred Ogami fighters still patrolling in the system, Harper's supercharged reflexes were ready.  
  
With a quick 180, the Andromeda flipped behind a nearby moon, switched directions, then, in a move worthy of a Valentine, skipped the moon's weak atmosphere to dodge behind the planet where Dylan had been retrieving his CO and resident Niet. To Harper's jubilation, no fighters broke off to follow.  
  
"Status?" Harper barked, as he fired reverse thrusters to halt Andromeda's forward motion.  
  
"Nearly 1000 Ogami fighters of all shapes and sizes are orbiting the large planet, Harper. And Tyr, Beka, and Dylan are all on it. My avatar informs me that they are imprisoned by the Ogami, Dylan and Tyr have been sentenced to death, and they have all just been gassed while attempting an escape. Things," she concluded from the forward viewscreen, "do not look great."  
  
"Great!" Harper echoed with immense sarcasm. "So, you're telling me that we have to rescue them from an Ogami planet - most likely a home world, right?" He paused for her confirming nod. "And evade nearly 1000 ships to do it? And how do you suggest we do that?"  
  
"Ambush," answered Trance, firmly.  
  
"What?" Harper demanded, full of indignation.  
  
"We ambush an Ogami fighter, take it over, and fly to the planet. And Harper, we need to do it right now."  
  
"Oh, great," Harper grumbled, nevertheless readying the controls. "Galil?"  
  
Galil, standing quietly in the corner of the Com Deck holding her son, said, "Yes?"  
  
"I'm leaving you the con."  
  
"Wh - what? Are you crazy, Harper? I can't command this ship!"  
  
"Listen, Galil. If something happens to us, the Andromeda needs an organic to fly her out of here, otherwise she'll be lost in the Slipstream for months. I promised Rommie I wouldn't let that happen to her."  
  
"But - but Harper - Trance? I'm not ready to fly the Andromeda. I'm only a guest here!"  
  
"I know, Galil," Trance murmured, "but we need you to stay here and do this, OK? We both need to get to that planet!"  
  
Trance pinned Galil with her intent, earnest gaze, and after a moment, the other woman gave in with a sigh. "OK, OK. I'll - err - hold down the fort. But I want you guys to promise me you'll come back!"  
  
"We promise," said Harper, only slightly sarcastic. "OK, Trance, pick me out a fighter and let's deploy the drones."  
  
In remarkably short order, Trance had identified and cleverly enticed an Ogami fighter within the reach of their drones. Jamming their communications, Harper maneuvered the bucky cables to tow the resisting figher into the Andromeda, taking care to ensure that the fighter could not blast its way right back out by disabling the ship's laser cannons.  
  
Once he'd secured the fighter on deck, Harper asked Andromeda to flood the deck with a knockout gas that she assured him would eliminate the Ogami for hours. With three Maria bots, Harper forced open the Ogami hatch and rendered the Sisterhood members inside quickly unconscious. As the Maria bots carried two captives to the ship's rarely-used brig, Andromeda vented the deck.  
  
Harper and Trance bounded aboard the fighter, Trance continuing to urge Harper to haste until he exclaimed irritably, "I got it, I got it, Trance! I'm goin' as fast as I can here!"  
  
Harper plugged himself into the Ogami ship's interface, requested the hangar doors be reopened, and blasted into space with very little other preparation, trusting in his quick wits to fly and land the fighter without arousing suspicion. As the multitude of other ships swam into view around him, he hoped he could do it.  
  
Rommie sat in a corner, legs straight out in front of her, contemplating her torn "skin." When the gas had felled Dylan and the others, she had feigned being overcome, too, so that she could try to resist the Ogami. But too many had swarmed around the bodies of her crew; although she launched herself with deadly efficiency at the nearest ones, she was overcome by weapons fire and hand to hand combat after several minutes of hard fighting.  
  
Now, she sat in the cell with her crewmates, her hand absently resting on Dylan's outflung wrist to feel his reassuringly steady pulse. She'd been in contact with her AI, and knew the Andromeda had finally reached the system, but she worried about the rescue effort from Harper and Trance. She adored Harper, really she did, but he was probably not her first choice for rescues.  
  
Of course, her first, second, and third choices lay crumpled unclad beside her, still breathing raspily from the effects of the neurogas.  
  
Rommie's brows creased as she heard footsteps coming again toward their cell. Four Ogami tromped up to the cell door, dragging a crumpled figure between them. It looked as though the other Nietzschean had survived his first combat challenge, though he did not look healthy. With little care, the Ogami hauled the massive man into the cell, and dumped him onto the floor in front of her.  
  
Next the captors focused on Tyr for a moment, bringing a bigger frown to Rommie's brow. They bent over the Nietzschean's prone form, prodding his skin and shaking him roughly. When Tyr showed no sign of life, one Ogami swiftly kicked him in the side, evidently more to test his unconsciousness than to do real harm. Despite the blow, Tyr remained quiescent, and after some muttered conversation, the Ogami departed.  
  
Tyr, Dylan and especially Beka looked different than before, as the Ogami had stripped each of them down to underclothes before throwing them back into the cell. Rommie, rendered helpless by a powerful electrical discharge from an Ogami weapon, had been unable to help her friends; the Ogami had removed clothes, the lockpicks and anything else that her crew might have used to escape again.  
  
Rommie continued her helpless vigil as her crew slept on, noting with concern the advent of Beka's shivers, but unable to help her.  
  
"Whoo-hoo!" Trance smiled a little as Harper gave vent to his relief. They'd done it! They'd evaded suspicion and landed on the planet's surface only a few thousand meters from where their crew's tracking bots pulsed on their display. Moving quickly, Trance grabbed an array of weapons, tossing a blaster and forcelance to Harper, and led the way out of the small craft. Fitting all of them into the ship for a return trip would be challenging, Trance noted with a fleeting frown, but she certainly hoped they got to face that challenge by freeing her friends.  
  
Moving stealthily out of the ship, Trance and Harper surveyed the surrounding brush. Spiky, brown and pungent, it wasn't too pleasant but nevertheless provided adequate covering. While Harper had quickly responded to the planetary docking system's hail, he worried that he hadn't had the codes right. And so, he valued the cover.  
  
The hot, dusty breeze ruffled his hair, but the golden locks bouncing just in front of him hung too heavily to be swayed by the errant wind. Harper wasn't sure if she was following her scanner or her particular locator talents, but either way, he was content to watch Trance's back as she forged her way through the undergrowth.  
  
As the brush got lighter, Harper put a gentle hand on Trance's arm. "Hold on a sec," he said in response to her inquiring look. Using his sub-vocal communicator, Harper risked a brief question. "Rommie, you there?"  
  
In the cell where she still sat immobilized, Rommie's eyes snapped open. "Harper, where are you?"  
  
"Maybe 300 meters from your building, I think."  
  
"Well, take cover and wait. Everyone's unconscious and I don't think we could move them. Harper - I can't move."  
  
"What? Rommie, what'd they do to you?"  
  
The indignation and concern in his voice warmed her, and her "Shot me with some kind of electrical discharge" rang with that warmth.  
  
"Hell." Harper was silent for a moment, brow knit, as Trance stood patiently waiting beside him. "Can you reroute your auxiliary relays through the secondary nerve array? Will that help things?"  
  
"I am not sure, but I will try it. Harper - shhh. Someone's coming!"  
  
In the brush outside, Harper tongued off his implant and drew Trance into a crouch. "We need to hang out here for a bit, Trance. Everyone's out."  
  
"Out?"  
  
"They're all unconscious and even Rommie can't move."  
  
"Oh, dear," Trance moaned, brow knit. "We've got to get them out of there."  
  
"I know, Trance. But we can't carry them all."  
  
Frowning fiercely, Trance subsided, clearly evaluating alternatives as Harper waited to hear back from Rommie.  
  
* * * 


	10. Survival Part 10

The Ogami footsteps faded away as Rommie kept watch from beneath her lashes. At least this time they hadn't even come into the cell, she comforted herself. They hadn't needed to; it was clear from outside that her crew was still unconscious.  
  
When she heard the strangled moan from in front of her, Rommie's eyes popped open. The sight of the other Nietzschean fighting his way toward consciousness relieved her; now at least she'd have some assistance. Rommie watched the massive man shake his head, ripples of brown hair falling around him. With an absent corner of her mind Rommie observed that, with his face averted, this Nietzschean's physique and attractiveness rivaled Tyr's. Too bad for him that his face repelled others.  
  
That face came into view as the Niet took a look around him. His widened eyes proclaimed his astonishment that not only were the other organic members of his party unconscious, they were also nearly naked. As Beka's body gave another long, convulsive shiver, Rommie hurried into speech. "Err - Hallow? Could you spare your shirt, do you think?"  
  
The other Nietzschean turned to her, frowning. "For what?"  
  
"Beka's shivering, and that can't be good. Could you get her wrapped up?" Rommie regretted her immobility intensely as the large man staggered to his feet, his eyes glued to Beka's body, sprawled face down. The sight of Beka's nearly naked form seemed to drive any other questions from his mind. Except for where it was covered by lacy peach panties, Beka's skin gleamed in the harsh light, shining pearly white against the grimy floor. Hallow licked his lips before slowly shrugging out of his shirt. With an avid look, he moved to Beka's body, stretching a hand that visibly trembled out toward her shoulder.  
  
"Severn, stop." Tyr's voice, though faint, gritted out a note of command. Seemingly despite him own wishes, the other man stopped, his eyes blazing into those of Kodiak. Tyr forced his limbs to obey his commands as he lurched to hands and knees, unabashedly displaying his weakness in order to get to Beka before the other man touched her. A cough racked his chest, but Tyr kept crawling. Somehow, he could not let the other Nietzschean clothe Beka.  
  
Once he reached her, he stretched out his hand for the other Niet's shirt. Frowning mightily, Hallow hesitated, flinching at a meaningful "ahem" from Rommie. Even then, his choice hung in the balance until Dylan's faint moan signaled that he, too, returned to the land of the living. Reluctantly, Hallow handed his shirt to Tyr, who blocked everyone's view as he carefully wrapped Beka in its warmth.  
  
Tyr's expression, facing away from the rest of the cell, was agonized, partly in reaction to the pain he felt, and partly because of the glimpse that he could not avoid, as he wrapped her in Hallow's shirt, of Beka's breasts.  
  
That brief flash rocked Tyr's world. Nietzschean women were bred for successful mothering, not physical beauty in that area. What Tyr saw of Beka - alabaster skin, blue veins, delicate pink - was nothing like he'd ever seen before. For the first time Tyr seriously wondered if Nietzscheans weren't the ones missing out terribly by scorning humans.  
  
But Tyr was given no time to ponder this. Heavy footsteps sounded again in the cell corridor, and three Ogami appeared at their door. Seeing Tyr sitting up, the Ogami grunted with satisfaction and unlocked the door. An Ogami came to either side of Tyr's body, ungently hauling him to his unsteady feet.  
  
"You can't take him now; he's barely recovered!" Rommie protested, but the Ogami ignored her. Forcibly marching him out the door, the Ogami hustled Tyr down the hall in the direction they'd taken the other Nietzschean. Rommie's last view of Tyr was his proud, brown back disappearing out the doors.  
  
"Wh- what's happening?" said Dylan groggily.  
  
"They've taken Tyr to challenge, Dylan, and he's barely regained consciousness," Rommie answered, distressed.  
  
"What happened to you all?" Hallow's clipped voice reflected his continued scowl.  
  
"We were gassed trying to escape, and I was shot with a power cell." Rommie answered abstractedly, her attention clearly elsewhere. "Hallow, what did you face out there?"  
  
"Exactly what they promised. Twenty armed Ogami, in a closed ring. The worst part was," he flinched a little as he moved his side, revealing many gashes, "the razor whips they carried. They got a few hits in before I took care of them." Hallow's voice showed his satisfaction at having done so, but Rommie heard his description with dread.  
  
"Dylan, Tyr won't be able to take on twenty Ogami. He could barely walk!" She paused for a moment, furiously working. Suddenly, her legs began to twitch, diverting her attention for just a moment. "Good." She nodded in satisfaction, then said urgently, "Harper!"  
  
Out in the brush, Harper jumped at the abrupt hail. "Yeah, Rommie? Things better in there?"  
  
"My legs are twitching, and Dylan and Tyr have come to, but. the Ogami have taken Tyr to his trial by combat."  
  
"To his what?" he squawked.  
  
"Trial by combat, instead of immediate death. Twenty armed Ogami, and Tyr is barely conscious."  
  
"Crap. We have to help him. Where?"  
  
"Hang on." As Harper urgently filled Trance in, Rommie asked, "Hallow, where is the ring?"  
  
"It's about 200 meters in back of the prison complex, to the right. Seemed to be a sports arena of some kind."  
  
"Was there an audience?"  
  
"Not that I noticed, just a few extra guards around and twenty Ogami trying to beat me to pulp."  
  
Rommie nodded. "Harper --."  
  
"Why do you keep talking to Harper, Rommie?" Dylan interrupted.  
  
"Because he and Trance are here. They've been waiting until you woke up."  
  
Dylan nodded. "So now they're going to save Tyr?"  
  
"That's the plan." Rommie turned her com link back on. "Harper, make your way around behind the prison, about 200 meters to your right. There's an arena there, and when they had Hallow in it there were few spectators. But hurry, because I'm afraid Tyr's going to have trouble!"  
  
"On our way," Harper responded briefly. Pulling Trance along beside him, Harper began moving quickly toward the arena's location, hoping they would arrive in time.  
  
Tyr was having no fun whatsoever. On a good day, he supposed, this kind of challenge would have been enjoyable. Twenty Ogami were perhaps more than he would choose to take on, given their fierce fighting skills, but he would have enjoyed testing his strength against a mass of them. After all, he constantly tempered that strength and his reflexes when fighting with the humans who made up his crew, so he welcomed the chance to really cut loose. On a good day.  
  
This, however, was not a good day, not at all. Tyr's head was spinning and his knees tended to buckle on him. The heat and harsh sunlight made his headache worse, and the dull shouts of the Ogami seemed to reverberate in his skull. For a moment, Tyr contemplated simply passing out. Surely the Ogami wouldn't attack an unconscious man? But then it was too late, as a group of five of them separated themselves from the mass at one end of the arena, stalking toward him and flicking out long, whip-like objects.  
  
Beka woke abruptly, with a gasp that set off a paroxysm of coughs. Looking quickly around, she found Hallow, bruised but upright, nearby watching her. Dylan and Rommie sat together near the back of the cell, talking quietly, but of Tyr there was no sign.  
  
"Where's Tyr?" Beka choked out, dread filling her.  
  
"He was taken to combat, Beka," Hallow answered with spurious solicitousness.  
  
Beka closed her eyes. This was what she had immediately feared when she didn't see him. Clenching her fists hard, she struggled to process what Rommie was saying.  
  
"Harper and Trance are headed over to help him, Beka." Compassion sounded in Rommie's cool tones.  
  
Beka couldn't respond. Through the din of her feelings she heard Dylan say, quietly, "I didn't know she felt like that about Tyr."  
  
"Before this trip, I don't think she did, either, Dylan."  
  
  
  
Tyr welcomed the adrenaline flooding his system, until the first whip caught him unprepared. He was still naked except for the tight black boxers he favored, so the razor whip wrapping around his torso left an impressive laceration. Despite himself, Tyr grunted a little at the pain, blinking quickly to clear the sweat that had sprung up on his forehead from his eyes. Seeing more flickering whips darting toward him, Tyr roared and charged into the group approaching him.  
  
Whips struck him several more times, but he ignored that pain as well as the blows landed by the Ogami he grappled with. Still roaring defiance, Tyr jammed the heel of his hand into her chin, hard. The snap of her head backward filled him with a primal satisfaction, though the whip blows raining furiously on his back quickly drove him onward.  
  
At first Tyr thought he was imagining the familiar sound of a forcelance firing. Still fighting close and mean with four angry Ogami, Tyr's fight had transformed into a struggle to remain alive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw large numbers of the Ogami at the end of the ring fall, stunned by forcelance fire. He was so distracted by the sight he would have been killed, had his opponents not been even more distracted - and dismayed.  
  
Tyr listened as the Ogami began their garbled shouting, only hitting at him perfunctorily as more of their Sisterhood fell to the forcelance fire. Soon, they all deserted him, running to take cover or to huddle among their fallen friends. Tyr's vision grayed as he watched them retreat; his swaying stopped only when two shoulders inserted themselves under his arms. He couldn't control a gasp of pain as bodies pressed up against his torn flesh, but Harper's familiar, "Come on, big guy, let's get you out of here," did much to allay the agony. Walking with difficulty, Tyr allowed Harper and Trance to support him out of the arena.  
  
Harper grunted as he took on more of the big man's weight. God, was Tyr heavy! As the growing patch of blood drenching his shirt testified, he was also in bad shape. "Trance!" Harper huffed. "This can't be good!"  
  
Trance's look grew grave as she took in the saturated cloth. "No, let's get him down. We need to get this bleeding stopped." As soon as the brown brush safely concealed them, they lowered Tyr to a sitting position, and Trance went to work, disinfecting and sealing the deep cuts crisscrossing Tyr's torso. Leaning back with his eyes closed, Tyr gave no sign of consciousness, but Trance knew better, warning, "This one will hurt," as she attacked a particularly deep gash.  
  
Though Tyr's face grew only more impassive, Trance was not fooled; the frown that etched itself between her brows marked her reluctance to hurt him further. This Trance, however, did not shirk from causing pain to do good, and so she efficiently dealt with the rest of Tyr's wounds, stopping only when she'd treated all of the serious lacerations.  
  
"OK, done," she assured him, bundling supplies back into her pouch.  
  
"Wait," he gritted out, still fighting to remain lucid. "I require Nevral."  
  
Harper, watching anxiously, saw Trance still. For a moment, she closed her eyes, then she responded, "Are you sure?"  
  
Tyr's eyes, darkened with pain, met hers squarely. "Don't I?" he asked.  
  
For a moment the two locked gazes, and then Trance looked away. "I - I don't know," she admitted.  
  
"Wh - what the heck is this Nevral stuff, anyway?" interjected Harper.  
  
For a moment, no one answered, and then Trance said, "A strong stimulant that overrides physiological. limitations."  
  
"So? Trance, if he wants it, give it to him."  
  
"But. Nevral can cause some serious side effects."  
  
"What, the stuff'll threaten his all-important reproduction system?" Despite his levity, Harper felt a stir of concern.  
  
"Harper, report!" Rommie's anxious voice interrupted whatever Trance was about to say; Harper held up a hand to stop her from speaking. "Did you guys find Tyr?" As Rommie spoke, Trance readied an injection. Focused on Rommie, Harper dismissed Trance's soft, final inquiry to Tyr.  
  
"Yeah, we got him. What's going on in there?" Tyr watched, fatalistic, as Trance gave him the injection.  
  
"How is Tyr?"  
  
"He's beaten up a bit, but he's OK. We just gave him a stimulant."  
  
"What? Tyr, a stimulant? That can't be good."  
  
"Whatever." Harper, watching the Nietzschean out of the corner of his eye, had to admit that the drug had worked wonderfully well. Tyr rose to his feet, breathing heavily, and seemed ready to move out. "We're ready to go - um - out here. Dylan have any orders for us?"  
  
A pause, then, "Come in and get us," responded Rommie dryly.  
  
"OK, then, we're all over it."  
  
Beka heard the news of Tyr's survival with a dull relief. Of all the crew, she seemed most affected by the gas the Ogami had used to disable them; her continuous cough brought up blood and her brain seemed wrapped in cotton. As Dylan and Rommie spoke in low tones, Beka huddled on the floor of the cell, wrapped in Hallow's shirt. Hallow squatted near her, dividing his vigilance between her and the hallways.  
  
Dylan's low, "Get ready," did not stir her, and when she heard the sound of intense fighting in the hallway, she did not move. She ignored flashes of weapons firing, the grunts and cries of the injured, and the unmistakable growl of a Kodiak in full war cry.  
  
When footsteps crashed down the corridor amid the shrill claxon of alarms, she was still on the floor. Hallow seized the opportunity, reaching down and sweeping her into his arms with an ease that rivaled Tyr's. By the time Harper blasted open their cell door, Beka was nestled in Hallow's hold, and Hallow was ready to follow Dylan and Rommie at a run.  
  
Tyr gave the twosome a perfunctory glance, but he seemed distracted, unfocused. Shaking his head slightly as if to clear it, Tyr, bleeding from several new injuries, waited for the others to run past him and watched over their backs. Weapons fire behind him did not faze him; if anything, he moved forward more stolidly than before.  
  
When, after a considerable firefight, the Andromeda crew cleared the prison gates, Harper led them back toward the Ogami fighter they had appropriated at a run.  
  
"No, let's try the Maru," Dylan shouted, veering off toward another part of the underbrush. With a shrug - surely the Ogami would have that guarded or disabled by now? - the rest of the team followed.  
  
The Maru seemed untouched, and at its familiar embrace Beka stirred in Hallow's arms. "Let me go!" she demanded, and he carefully set her on her unsteady feet. Reeling a little, Beka made it to the pilot's seat just as Tyr sealed off the outside door with a clang.  
  
A quick check betrayed no Ogami meddling, so Beka fired up the Maru's engines and launched into pre-flight check.  
  
"Beka, you good for this?" queried Dylan, anxious, as Beka wiped sweat from her forehead.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."  
  
"OK, get ready to take her out slowly. Rommie, contact the Andromeda. Harper, man scanners; Tyr, weapons." Each scrambled to the named positions.  
  
"Andromeda," Dylan's voice was certain as he addressed his ship.  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
"Switch auxiliary control to the Maru. I'm going to pilot you from here."  
  
"What? Dylan, can you do that?" Harper's concern rang through his words.  
  
"With Rommie's help I can. I don't think Galil or Ian is up to the job, and that's all that's left up there, right?"  
  
At Harper's nod, Dylan swung over to a secondary command station. "Rommie, plug in through here, and I'll relay helm control through your connection to the Andromeda."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Beka, any time you're ready." At his words, Beka lifted the Maru steadily off the ground, breaking hastily over the town to avoid the missiles firing at them.  
  
"Great. Tyr, can you take any of those out?"  
  
The tall man seemed dazed, unresponsive. Dylan took in his condition with a flick of a glance, and changed gears.  
  
"Harper, I need you over at the weapons station. Trance, relieve Harper at sensors. Severn, get Tyr out of the way, and both of you secure in." The snap of command in Dylan's voice ensured prompt compliance. Tyr, Dylan noted with a quick frown, seemed completely unaware of his surroundings, going placidly to a seat next to the taller Niet at his suggestion.  
  
Dylan worried about that for a moment, then dismissed it. With the number of Ogami they were certain to face in space, he needed complete focus on the problem at hand.  
  
Using the auxiliary controls, Dylan projected the Maru's current course out of the atmosphere. With Trance feeding him updated numbers and positions of Ogami fighters, Dylan calculated the best intercept location for the Andromeda and had her move out to meet up with the Maru.  
  
At a protesting squawk over the communicator, Dylan smiled briefly. "Tell her what's going on," he said to Trance, then set Galil out of his mind for the time being also.  
  
As the Maru broke through the Ogami planet's atmosphere, burning a gorgeous trail through its sky, nearly a hundred Ogami fighters gathered to meet her.  
  
"They're waiting to party," observed Beka with a flash of her normal spirit.  
  
"Yeah, but we don't like party crashers, do we Beka?" returned Hunt, and with that, the dodge and evade was on.  
  
Beka sent the Maru spinning through space, with only a brief, "Hold on!" to warn the crew. Meanwhile, Dylan accelerated the Andromeda, readying a missile barrage to lay down covering fire for the Maru's approach. Several satisfying explosions in space later, the Maru had made it past most of her opponents and was nearing the Andromeda.  
  
Suddenly, a tremendous crash shook the old freighter, and ominous alarms rang throughout the ship. With a profane mutter, Harper abandoned the weapons station. "Tyr! Tyr!" He knelt before the other man, trying to engage him.  
  
After a moment, the dark-skinned Nietzschean blinked slowly. "Yes, boy?" Tyr's words slurred, usually clear diction dragging.  
  
"Can you handle weapons?"  
  
Harper's urgency seemed to finally get through, and Tyr, gathering lucidness in his eyes, nodded affirmatively and unstrapped himself. A mighty roll from the helm, however, sent them both flying as Dylan let out a rare curse.  
  
While Tyr would usually have been first to his feet, hauling the engineer with him, this time Harper scrambled up and away, leaving the unstable Nietzschean crumpled on the floor. By now even Beka , as occupied as she was, noticed his incapacity; with a troubled frown, she said, "Hallow, can you get him back in the chair?"  
  
"Yes, Beka."  
  
"And can you handle weapons?"  
  
"I can try. Hang on." With a grunt Hallow hefted Tyr into the chair and re-secured the safety strap around him. With a frown pulling disfigured brows together, Hallow rushed to the weapons station and bent over the controls.  
  
While Dylan fired on the attacking Ogami from the Andromeda, Hallow quickly figured out the Maru's weapons and did a satisfying amount of damage from the smaller ship. Soon, a brief word from Harper confirmed the Maru's readiness to fly further, and Beka took her the home stretch into the Andromeda.  
  
As soon as the hangar doors clanged behind the Maru, Dylan dashed from the freighter toward the Com deck, Harper, Trance and Rommie on his heels. Beka moved unsteadily out of the pilot's chair, leaning heavily, despite her intentions, on the arm that Hallow extended. Tyr remained crumpled in the bridge chair, his complete unconsciousness bringing a frown to Beka's brow. For a moment she paused before him, laying a gentle hand on his forehead, and then she turned with Hallow and moved as quickly as possible to follow her captain. They weren't out of the woods just yet, and she had a feeling he'd need her.  
  
When they reached Command, Beka said, "Rommie, can you send some Maria bots to transfer Tyr to Med Deck? He needs help, I'm sure of it." Trance's heavy frown alarmed her; for a moment, Beka paused on her way to the pilot's station to drill the golden alien with a look. "What?"  
  
Trance shook her head. "Later, Beka."  
  
With a final searching look, Beka made her way to navigation and readied the Slipstream drive. Galil, witnessing this interplay, volunteered, "I can go check on Tyr, if you like."  
  
The same frown marked Trance's forehead as she considered this, then shook her head. "No, Galil, but thanks. I'll get down there in just a bit." This drew another frown from Beka, but Dylan immediately drowned out Galil's muted agreement.  
  
"Beka! Bring her around to 44 degrees and head for the Slipstream point."  
  
"But Dylan, won't that open a portal pretty close to the Ogami planet's moon?" Harper protested.  
  
"Maybe, but we can't take the time to go further; there are several hundred other fighters on their way into this sector." Dylan looked up for a moment, eyes crinkling. "Besides, they're pretty ticked at us anyway, eh Mr. Harper?"  
  
With a faint smile and shake of his head, Harper subsided, carefully monitoring the nearby flyers to ensure that none could get into position to interrupt their flight to slipstream. After a tense five minutes, the Andromeda reached the Slipstream portal, and almost all on board sighed in relief as the ship disappeared into the 'Stream's embrace.  
  
* * *  
  
Beka's exhaustion worried Dylan; he pressed her to bring the Andromeda back to normal space after only a few minutes in the Slipstream. Beka, injured wrist trembling under the strain of piloting, complied, and the Andromeda shuddered into normal space in a small system not far from the Ogami world.  
  
As quickly as Beka excused herself from Command, Trance was before her; as Beka reached the Med Deck Trance had just finished securing restraints to Tyr's nearly naked and still body. Beka's brows snapped into a frown as she took in Trance's actions. "What's this for?"  
  
Trance refused to meet her gaze for a moment, bustling anxiously around a tray holding several ominous implements.  
  
Beka grew more insistent. "Trance, why is Tyr restrained? What's going on?"  
  
Trance took a deep breath as she looked, finally, at Beka. "He's restrained because I'm not sure what he will do next," she said with careful calm.  
  
"What do you mean?" Beka snapped, barely sparing a glance for Dylan as he entered Med deck.  
  
"Beka," Trance started, then seemed to have difficulty continuing. Her gaze, warm with compassion, focused on Beka's tense face.  
  
"Trance - WHAT?" Beka thought she might throttle her friend if Trance did not explain quickly. Harper's appearance did not shift her attention.  
  
"Beka, the drug that Tyr took can have very unpredictable effects on Nietzscheans."  
  
"What effects? What are you talking about?" Out of the corner of her eye, Beka saw Rommie, Galil and Hallow join the crowd in the Med deck.  
  
"Nevral is. is not something I would have given Tyr if our need had not been so very great." Trance ignored Hallow's gasp. "Tyr was badly injured; if I had not given him the drug, I think we might all have perished on that planet. But.."  
  
"But - WHAT? Trance, this is like pulling teeth! Just tell me, already!"  
  
"You gave him Nevral?" Hallow's horror chilled Beka, and she turned a fierce glare on Trance, wordlessly demanding to know what they faced.  
  
With a sigh, Trance capitulated. "Oh, Beka. I'm so sorry, but, I think Tyr's going to have trouble now. With the wrong combination of hormones, Nevral can be immediately addictive to Nietzscheans. Stress and danger - the whole fight or flight thing - exacerbates its effects. Now, I'm afraid Tyr is going to have to go through a serious withdrawal."  
  
Through lips numb with shock, Beka persisted. "What do you mean, serious withdrawal?"  
  
"Well, much like you've endured. Hallucinations, fever, chills, palpitations."  
  
"Beka, he won't know any of us. He won't know you. And his impulses will be murderous." Hallow spoke in a flat voice, concealing his own feelings.  
  
"Is this temporary?" Dylan's brow creased with concern.  
  
"It should be, but it might take a week before the symptoms pass."  
  
"Is there anything you can do to help him?" Dylan persisted.  
  
"Well, there is a drug that might help him, but it has side effects also." Trance sounded worried and apologetic.  
  
"Like?" Dylan prompted.  
  
"Well, like amnesia."  
  
"What?" Beka asked faintly.  
  
"If we have to give him the other drug, it will help eliminate the effects of the Nevral withdrawal, but it might also make him forget some of his immediate past."  
  
Beka gulped. Amnesia? Forgetting the past? What might he forget? For a moment she grappled with that, then set it aside.  
  
How could Tyr bear the hideous withdrawal that she had lived through when she'd stopped taking Flash? Would his Nietzschean constitution, with its enhanced sensitivity, be able to endure it? Would his sense of self survive an addict's path even though he had not sought a drug's forgetfulness?  
  
Wrenching her gaze away from Trance's golden countenance, she looked at Tyr, lying quiescent, for the moment, on the bed. With fingers that trembled slightly, she reached out to touch his forehead, ignoring compassionate looks from Dylan and Rommie. Galil and Harper looked concerned, and Hallow, still horrified. Trance's low voice, urging the others to leave, barely penetrated her concentration.  
  
When Med deck had been cleared, Trance returned to Beka. "Come on, Beka, if you want to stay and help me I would welcome the assistance, but you need a shower and to have that wrist looked at." With a firm touch, Trance guided Beka away from Tyr, into the fresher in the Med Deck. As Beka showered quickly, Trance whisked to Beka's quarters to pick out fresh clothes. Once Beka was cleaned up and dressed, Trance examined her wrist, bracing it and injecting fresh nanobots to take down the swelling.  
  
Rommie arrived with a tray full of food, and Beka began eating as Trance adjusted an IV for her unconscious patient, boosting meds and nutrients to help him recover as quickly as possible. The many gashes and wounds on Tyr's skin glared reddish in the light; with a quick frown, Trance added more antibiotics to the IV. This was no time for Tyr to be fighting infection.  
  
After Beka ate, Trance pushed her into the bed beside Tyr's. "No point in your not getting some rest for now. He's still out, and you need sleep."  
  
Beka felt so exhausted that everything had taken on an odd, distant look, so she didn't argue. Nearly a minute after her head touched the Med deck mattress, she was out. Trance, after carefully checking her patient's status, stretched out on a bed, too. The next few days promised to be challenging, and she wanted to make it as easy as possible on the others.  
  
Trance fell asleep with a frown pulling at her brow; she hoped Tyr and Beka made it through this. It was going to be very difficult for both of them.  
  
Back on Command, Dylan asked Rommie to assign quarters to Hallow and sent Harper off to rest. With Galil leaning companionably nearby, Dylan ran a standard series of diagnostics, checking the Andromeda's overall condition. The resulting readouts satisfied him; with a quick smile, he commented, "At least the ship isn't falling apart for once."  
  
"Dylan," Andromeda protested from her sudden appearance on the viewscreens. "That's not very nice."  
  
"Rommie, you know what I mean," Dylan responded indulgently as Galil grinned. A pause, then he turned to her. "Have you eaten recently?" He frowned. "I always seem to be asking you that."  
  
Galil laughed a little, then said, "No. I fed Ian earlier but I wasn't hungry."  
  
"Well, I am. Join me in the mess?"  
  
Galil nodded, smiling happily. Looking at that smile, Dylan felt something inside him melt a little bit, some unconscious reserve begin to fade. With a quick glance at the viewscreen, Dylan said, "Rommie, keep us hidden behind the asteroid field, and let me know immediately if you see anything threatening."  
  
"Aye, sir," she returned calmly.  
  
With the wave of an arm, Dylan invited Galil to Mess.  
  
The weary crew was undisturbed for the next several hours, hours desperately needed by Tyr and Beka to recover their health. But Tyr's increasing strength and return to physical health only exacerbated the symptoms he began to display.  
  
Beka and Trance were both awakened by Tyr's first growl. Rising quickly, Beka staggered a little as she made her way to the bed where Tyr lay secured. Sweat beaded the Nietzschean's dark forehead, and his brows scowled fiercely. Beka frowned as she took this in. Reaching for a damp cloth that Trance had left ready, she gently wiped his forehead, noting with concern the heat radiating from him.  
  
The light cover that Trance had spread over Tyr's body fell to the side as he began to try to move. Trance had restrained him tightly; straps bound his lower and upper arms and legs to the table, while others crossed his torso and hips. Despite the strong ties, Tyr, in increasing agitation, tried to move and thrash about, eyes still closed.  
  
"Tyr..Tyr!" Beka spoke softly, but with increasing urgency, and the sight of Tyr's darkened eyes opening rewarded her. For a moment, he gazed at her blankly, then a dazed awareness seemed to swim into his look. Beka, leaning over, saw the moment that he recognized her and the relief that he could not hide.  
  
"Beka," his voice sounded weak, "Untie me, please." He sounded utterly sure that she would release him.  
  
"I can't," she answered simply, heart wrung with compassion. How he must hate being so helpless, she thought, smoothing back his locks gently from that high forehead.  
  
For a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing heavily, then he met her concerned gaze again. "Please, let me loose," he said, unwontedly pleading.  
  
"Tyr, I can't. You're having a reaction to the Nevral. We can't let you lose or you might hurt yourself. I'm sorry!" The last words, heartfelt, seemed to fall on deaf ears; Tyr had closed his eyes and turned his head away from her caressing hand.  
  
Beka, standing uncertainly beside him, felt helpless. This was clearly worse for him than she had imagined it would be, and it was only just beginning. She looked at Trance, effacing herself on the other side of the room. Should they try to help him with the other drug? Beka bit her lip, unsure, as Trance moved forward with more nourishment solution for Tyr's IV.  
  
Four hours later, no uncertainty remained. Tyr had become delirious, and quite dangerous even tied down. No flicker of rationality or recognition dawned in his fierce dark eyes, and in his violent struggles to free himself, he tore at the bindings securing him, ripping open his dark skin in the struggle.  
  
Beka hurt for him, but was very thankful that Trance's foresight had led to her securely tying him, for his ferocity and rage frightened her. She knew they could not have controlled Tyr's great strength if he were free. Biting her lip as he roared again in fury, she carefully moved to wipe the blood trickling down his torso, ignoring his abortive movements to avoid her gentle touch.  
  
Beka, stricken, met Trance's gaze as Tyr snapped out an unknown dialect, voice thickened with rage. Rommie's holograph flickered into view as Tyr continued to speak, his voice rising to a shout.  
  
"Interesting," Rommie commented. "I didn't know Tyr spoke Ogami."  
  
Beka looked at Rommie impatiently. "What's up, Rommie?"  
  
"Dylan wondered how things were going down here?" The holograph had to raise her voice to be heard over Tyr's increasingly loud shouts.  
  
"As you see, not great. He's not doing very well."  
  
"But Beka, at least he's still conscious," Trance pointed out.  
  
"Wouldn't unconscious be easier for him at this point?"  
  
Suddenly, Tyr gasped, dilating pupils fixed on something only he could see. With an indrawn breath, he turned his head to the side, flinging himself at his bindings in an effort to avoid the imagined peril. Beka's heart wrung anew as she watched him struggle; clearly, he felt his survival depended on getting away from whatever stalked him in his imagination.  
  
Moving closer to him, she bent over, stroking his sweaty forehead and calling his name softly in a fruitless bid to bring him back to reality. Tyr ignored her completely, his whole being straining to avoid the hallucination threatening him. With a feral, inarticulate cry, he threw himself even harder against the bindings, dislodging Beka's hand and breaking the strap covering his chest with a loud crack.  
  
"Uh oh. Trance!" Even though he so hated being bound, the last thing Beka wanted to face was a freed Tyr in this condition.  
  
"I'll get Dylan," Rommie offered, disappearing.  
  
Trance raced to Tyr's bed with a new strap. Passing it to Beka underneath the bed, they rushed to fasten it before Tyr managed to tear entirely free. Panting slightly, they stared down at the writhing figure on the bed as they drew the new tie tight.  
  
"Maybe another one?" Beka asked, voice shaky.  
  
Trance nodded wordlessly, fetching yet another strap to make Tyr more immobile. The additional, enforced stillness infuriated him; again and again he roared out his fury, bone blades fully extended, whole body contorting to try to free himself.  
  
Tears started to Beka's eyes as she watched him. With a broken little sob, she turned away, into Trance's arms, and Trance drew her into the adjoining chamber. For just a moment she clung to the slighter alien, body bowed in Tyr's shared pain, now thankfully muted by distance. Then, Beka's tear- drenched eyes met the other woman's. "We have to give him the other drug."  
  
Trance stared at her gravely. "Beka," she cautioned, "if we do, Tyr may be a very different person when he awakens. I can't answer for the combined effects of his injuries, the gas, the Nevral, the antibiotics and this drug. I just don't know what will happen."  
  
"I understand, but. I think if we do not help him, something inside him may become permanently damaged by the withdrawal. Nietzschean physiognomy cannot have been designed to endure this." Beka's voice, roughed by tears, was nonetheless firm.  
  
Trance sighed, compassion again filling her gaze. "The probabilities. do not look favorable. Beka, he may forget us all if we do this."  
  
"He may go insane if we do not. I'd much rather save his mind than his memories, Trance."  
  
Dylan strode in just in time to hear Beka's last sentence. Expression grave, he said, "What's the plan?"  
  
Beka stood silent, transfixed by the howls erupting from the adjacent room, so Trance said, "I guess we're going to give him the other drug. But Dylan - he may not remember any of us if we do this."  
  
"I understand, but I agree with Beka. Better to save his mind, if we can."  
  
Trance sighed again, then nodded, frown never leaving her brow. With firm steps, she crossed to the drug dispensary and readied another injection.  
  
"How long-."  
  
"This will take effect quickly, but I expect that Tyr will be out for a while, a day or two most likely."  
  
Beka sighed. So long to wait to find out how this affected him. For a moment, their shared experience danced before her eyes, taunting her with its promise, but then she set it aside. Somehow, Trance, halted by the doorway, knew what she was thinking, and was waiting for her final agreement. With a sharp nod, Beka motioned Trance onward. "Do it."  
  
She found, however, that she could not watch. Tears again sprang to her eyes, and she was very glad when Dylan drew her gently into his arms. With a sniffle, she buried herself there, crying for everything that she might, even now, be losing. 


	11. Survival Part 11

After Tyr passed into simple unconsciousness, Beka retreated to the Maru, needing its comforting and familiar surroundings to try to regain equilibrium. Consulting the duty roster, she found herself assigned to the helm in a few hours' time; she welcomed the responsibility as a distraction.  
  
After a session with some of her favorite old music, Beka felt better. Moving on to the Mess for a quick meal, she found Hallow awkwardly conjuring up something to eat. With a swift smile, she moved toward him. "Can I give you a hand?" It felt odd to speak so carelessly, as though nothing was at stake in the Med deck, but she forced herself to go on.  
  
Hallow fixed her with a piercing glance before answering. "I think I've got this figured out."  
  
She smiled, faintly. "Good." Wracking her brains, she tried to think of something further to say.  
  
He came to her rescue. "I have a few questions. Have you got a minute?"  
  
With some relief, she answered, "Sure, just let me grab something to eat and I'll join you."  
  
Nodding, he took his own food over to a table, politely waiting to start until she took a seat.  
  
"So, can you tell me about the Andromeda, and what you do aboard her?" That, Beka reflected, was an easy one. She launched into the answer, sharing with Hallow some of the stories that had melded her crew into a single unit - a family. She lost herself in her own words, until the contentment that she described became obvious even to her ears, and then she paused, smiling a little sadly.  
  
"And then?" Hallow prompted, fascinated by the play of emotions over her face. As she continued, Hallow drew in the sight of her as he listened carefully to all she had to say.  
  
Hallow faced a crossroads. Finally freed from exile, he had to decide what to do next. Anasazi's current disability gave him some ideas; perhaps, in the other Niet's absence, Hallow could step in and contribute. He could think of several choices worse than joining the Andromeda's crew, even for a short time.  
  
Beka's discussion made him understand how the crew divided responsibilities. Galil, the other outsider, interested Hallow although he'd barely met her yet. Would she want to remain on the Andromeda? If so, in what capacity?  
  
And he had to admit, the more he saw of Beka, the more she attracted him, human or not. One of the best things about his situation is that he was free to choose whatever actions suited him. If he wanted to return to a Nietzschean culture, he could. If he wanted to embrace an entirely different way of life, including a human mate, he could do that, too. Hallow thrilled to the possibilities he could now explore.  
  
Hallow felt a genuine sorrow for the way he'd treated Beka at first. His desperation had not justified what he had threatened; he was humbled and moved that she so clearly forgave him. Though he had made no peace, he thought, with Anasazi, with Beka he felt a sense of ease and affection.  
  
All in all, Hallow felt a contentment grow as he sat and talked with Beka. Camaraderie like he'd never known lay here; he heard it in her voice, saw it in the quick smile she gave Harper when the diminutive engineer wandered in, rumpled and disheveled.  
  
When Beka finished her meal, she went to take her shift on Command, leaving an intrigued and interested Hallow behind.  
  
Twenty four hours later, Tyr lay still unconscious, and Beka was slowly going mad. Unable to contain her anxiety, she headed, after checking in on him for the dozenth time, off to the gym, where she found Hallow lifting. No surprise, she thought sardonically, he's surely a Nietzschean. She was only surprised that it had taken him this long.  
  
With a nod, she started her own routine, starting with some kickboxing to warm up. After several minutes, Hallow finished the reps he'd been working on - Nice chest, she noted absently - and came to hold her bag. Nice arm definition, too.  
  
"Want to try it real?" he asked after a while.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Work out with me. I'll spar with you, if you like."  
  
Beka drilled him with a look. "What is it with Nietzscheans who always want to spar with me? You just want to dump me on my rear end, right?" She finished this with a weary air, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.  
  
Hallow laughed a little, waving his arms in demurral. "No, no! I just thought you might enjoy a workout partner, as I would."  
  
Beka eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. How much worse could it be than working out with Tyr? She certainly missed Anasazi in the gym; it would be pleasant to have a partner. For a moment, her thoughts turned grave as they touched on Tyr, then she shook off the memory.  
  
"OK, let's go for it."  
  
Forty-five minutes later she had a new appreciation for Anasazi's training. Judging by how well she matched with Hallow, Tyr had certainly pulled no punches while training her. Despite the great disparity between her strength and Hallow's, she managed to land blows on him as often as he on her. Beka wasn't sure if she felt grateful to Tyr for being so demanding, or resentful of his obviously high standards.  
  
Their absolute lack of rivalry made sparring with Hallow pleasant, unthreatening. Beka couldn't prevent herself from making the comparison; working out with Tyr always devolved into a contest of wills, with unacknowledged sexual attraction spicing up their interactions. Tyr excited and challenged her, but Hallow provided a comfortable, fulfilling workout.  
  
When they finished, after Beka did her own weight training, they headed to quarters together. Beka agreed to meet Hallow in the Mess after showers; she had just dressed when Trance's voice came over the intercom.  
  
"Beka, Dylan, please report to Med Deck."  
  
Beka stilled for a moment, her heart stuttering in her chest. Was Tyr awake? Abandoning her quarters with a rush, Beka ran to Med Deck, eager to find out how he fared.  
  
As she dashed through the Med Deck's door, she heard his deep tones speaking softly. With a sound almost like a sob, she ran up to the bed beside him, collapsing in the chair next to his bed and seizing his newly- freed hand. Carrying that hand to her cheek she looked at him, tears filling her eyes.  
  
Tyr met her gaze with a puzzled one of his own. "Beka?" When she didn't respond, sitting mute with his hand against her cheek, he gently freed himself, and asked, "What are you doing?" with unmistakable puzzlement. His gaze, politely inquiring, held neither the warmth nor the resentment she'd seen over the past weeks.  
  
Beka felt her eyes widen in dismayed comprehension. With a gasp she turned to Trance, who met her eyes with a sad, affirmative nod. No! Beka shouted to herself. He can't have forgotten it all - he CAN'T!!!  
  
But apparently, he could have. As Hallow and Galil entered with Dylan, he turned an even more puzzled gaze on them. "Hello, Dylan," he said. Still polite, his next words confirmed the truth. "And who are these people?"  
  
Hallow leapt forth to catch Beka as she fainted, astonishing Tyr by sliding gracelessly out of the chair and into the other Niet's arms.  
  
* * * After Hallow left for the Maru with Beka in his arms, Trance shooed out Galil and withdrew to let Dylan and Tyr talk.  
  
"What do you remember?"  
  
Tyr frowned at Dylan. "What do you mean, what do I remember?"  
  
"I mean, you've been through some - err - interesting things recently. What do you remember of them?"  
  
Tyr was silent for a moment, pondering. "I - I don't really remember anything of particular interest. Signing planets, the occasional space monster, that's about it." Clearly uncomfortable with the topic, he shifted a bit in his bed, then nailed Dylan with a look. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Dylan frowned silently for a moment, considering. "Hold on," he said, and searched out Trance.  
  
"Do we tell him?"  
  
"Tell him what, Dylan?"  
  
"Tell him about the Szeshume, the planet, everything."  
  
Trance sighed for a moment, rubbing her forehead in a rare gesture of uncertainty and weariness. "I think not. Better to see if he remembers unaided, I think."  
  
"Will he?"  
  
"Doubtful, but. with such an intense stimuli as Beka nearby" - Dylan rolled his eyes at her unconscious double entendre - "it's more likely."  
  
"But if we don't tell him, Trance, where do we go from here?"  
  
Trance sighed a little. "Dylan, I don't know. This is my worst probability arc coming true. I don't know where we go from here, and the possible outcomes are. not good."  
  
"Great, Trance. Just great." And returning to the waiting Nietzschean, Dylan put him off with generalities about his health and went to relieve Harper on the Com deck.  
  
As he watched his tall Captain stride off, evidently in something of a temper judging by his abrupt motions, Tyr frowned. Why was everyone acting so strangely? He'd been injured, apparently, on some foolhardy mission that Dylan had insisted upon. So what else was new? And why couldn't he recall the exact details?  
  
Dylan's actions seemed unusually odd, Trance was even more elliptical than usual, and the strangers on the Andromeda - particularly the other Nietzschean - appeared dangerous. Tyr had not missed the flash of savage glee on the Nietzschean's face when he'd inquired about the new people. And.Beka? Fainting? What was that?  
  
Tyr puzzled longest over Beka. Her actions were the strangest of all.  
  
For what had to be the millionth time, Tyr wondered what he was doing on board this ship with this miscreant crew. True Nietzschean ideals would be served here only if he took over the Andromeda, and yet.he'd stayed his hand, and stayed on board at the same time. Why?  
  
But as Tyr was thinking these familiar thoughts, something else bothered him. This refrain, as familiar as it was, seemed. rusty. As if he actually hadn't thought it for a while. Puzzled, Tyr lay frowning, trying to put his finger on what disturbed him. His frown remained as he dropped into a restless sleep.  
  
In Hallow's strong hold, Beka stirred. "Tell me I didn't just pass out."  
  
His voice rumbled under her ear. "OK. You didn't just pass out."  
  
Beka sighed a little, pushing her hair out of her eyes with one hand. "You're lying, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
Beka strove to speak lightly, but misery so profound made her barely able focus on what she said. "Probably time for this free ride to be over, right?"  
  
Hallow smiled gently down at her. Funny how she'd stopped even noticing his misshapen face, until it was this close to hers. "It's all right, Beka, I'm good for it."  
  
Beka, tears beginning to swim in her eyes again, sniffed, "I'm glad you are," and left it at that.  
  
When they got to the Maru, Hallow set her down gently. "All right?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. I - I."  
  
"I know. You need privacy."  
  
Gratefully, she looked up at him. "Yes."  
  
"OK. Call if you need anything, all right?"  
  
"Yes," she repeated, and retreated into the Maru.  
  
Tyr recovered quickly, but his crewmates required, he thought ironically as he walked toward the Com deck some three weeks later, more time. Though Dylan had eventually filled him in on the missing parts of his memory, his crewmates' odd behavior convinced Tyr that Dylan had not told him the entire story.  
  
No matter how he strove to behave normally, to return to the undemanding, slightly sarcastic crew relationships he remembered, his crewmates resisted. Their odd silences and sideways glances defeated him, until in self-defense he found himself retreating into a silence and reserve he'd left behind in his first months on the Andromeda.  
  
It was particularly galling, he thought with a frown, to be so at odds with the crew as the newcomers were so welcomed. He liked Galil; he really did. And her son was as engaging as any child of that age.  
  
About Hallow he had greater doubts. As Trance and Rommie colluded to try to fix the exiled Nietzschean's repellant face, Tyr fought hostility and resentment toward the bigger man. Their talents were similar, and Tyr relieved Hallow at weapons far more often than anyone else.  
  
Sharing tactical responsibility with another Nietzschean could have been a relief, but somehow, in this case, Tyr sensed a mockery and sly glee in Hallow that did not lend itself to companionship or trust.  
  
Tyr seemed alone in that opinion, however. All the rest of the crew accepted Hallow, and Beka. more than accepted him. Beka - but here his thoughts were interrupted by arrival on the Com deck.  
  
Harper had the con this afternoon, and as Tyr nodded to him, he saw it again - a resentful, half-scared, half-sad glance. Why was Harper looking at him like that? What could he have forgotten that put that look on the young engineer's face?  
  
For a moment, the question trembled on the edge of Tyr's lips, but then Harper ducked his head away and scuttled out of reach. His "See ya later, Tyr!" held a forced cheerfulness; with a sigh, Tyr accepted Command and turned his attention to status reports, as required.  
  
But he was conscious, as he mechanically performed his tasks, of a growing darkness, a heaviness of heart and spirit that he could not rationally explain. Certainly he should not care what this mongrel crew thought of him. Without doubt he had always been solitary on this ship; the elite do not mix with the unmodified. But. why did it feel so wrong, so lonely, when he caught shared laughter in the Mess, laughter that stopped when he arrived? Why was the sight of Harper curled trustingly beside Trance so.painful? And why did he miss Beka so?  
  
For it was Beka's behavior that had changed most, he acknowledged. He rarely saw Beka any more; days went by without his setting eyes on her. When he did see her, he sensed a vast gulf, as though she had put up some barrier enormously tall and wide between them. And once, just once, he had caught her looking at him with such sorrow and pain in her eyes that he'd been stunned. Remembering that expression..  
  
But this was just stupid. Why should he care? He was Nietzschean; she was human. They were both civil, as befitted crewmembers. He had no reason to doubt her professionalism, and no reason to consider her further.  
  
With a deep sigh that would have astounded him, had he realized he'd uttered it, Tyr went back to work, forcing unproductive thoughts out of his mind.  
  
When Dylan arrived to relieve Tyr, he stood watching the Nietzschean's solitary figure for a while, a crease between his brows. Things were not, he thought, going well, and for once he really couldn't blame Tyr for it, even though the Nietzschean was right at the center of the disturbance.  
  
No, for once, he thought, he rather pitied Tyr.  
  
"Mr. Anasazi," Dylan said. Impossible to let down his guard with this reserved version of Tyr.  
  
"Captain Hunt. Have you come to relieve me?"  
  
"I have, indeed. Anything I should know?'  
  
For a moment, those dark eyes regarded him, and Dylan had the odd notion that Tyr was not as indifferent as he seemed. But then, the moment passed, and Dylan once again faced an impassive countenance. Tyr's "Nothing you should know" echoed with a particular emphasis.  
  
For a moment, Dylan looked him askance, then said, "OK, then, enjoy your down time. We're heading out tomorrow and I think things are going to pick up."  
  
With a slight inclination of his head, the graceful Nietzschean left the Com deck, leaving Dylan staring after him, that crease still marking his brow.  
  
When Tyr arrived at the gym, Beka and Hallow occupied the large mat. Tyr's eyes flickered as he took in the sight; Hallow, squatting in front of Beka, was working on a lateral kick with her. Again and again, with complete trust, Beka launched her leg at him and he caught her. After about a dozen attempts, Beka kicked wildly to try to evade his catch. Both were laughing as he grabbed her leg and unbalanced her; as he heard her giggle, Tyr realized that he had not heard Beka laugh since before his injury.  
  
Some motion or glance must have betrayed him; he saw the exact moment when Beka realized that he watched. Her humor and animation died entirely away, and that unmistakable barrier sprang into place. Hallow's low murmured inquiry surely was asking about him, and her quick, sober nod confirmed it.  
  
Tyr watched Hallow take a deep breath, then rise to face him, deliberately stepping in front of Beka as though she might require protection - or shielding. For some reason, that motion infuriated him; for the first time he allowed his anger and resentment to surface. Kludge or not, Beka Valentine had been his crewmate far longer than this hideous Nietzschean's.  
  
"Beka!" Tyr spoke sharply, resentment riding him.  
  
Chin raised, Beka stepped around Hallow to face him. "Yes, Tyr?" she answered coolly.  
  
Now what did he say? Suddenly, Tyr felt foolish. What was he supposed to do, ask her why she wasn't friends with him any more?  
  
As he thought those words, he experienced something he never had before. For just a moment, he got a strong flash - a multi-colored vision of her saying something very similar to him in a heated way. A splitting bolt of pain accompanied the flash; Tyr gasped and clapped his hand to his forehead. Through the buzzing in his ears, he heard Beka's concerned, "Tyr?"  
  
For a moment, he was silent, waiting for the pain to subside. Then, he shook his head a little to clear it, and looked back up at her. The concern in her eyes warmed him; he had not seen any expression in those crystalline blue depths in so long. Slowly, he spoke. "My head. "  
  
"Is something wrong with your head?" She spoke with extreme care, enunciating each word as though her speech was made of fine glass. The barriers were already back in her eyes, but behind them he sensed strong feelings.  
  
Still, to see those eyes shutter again. "Never mind, Beka." His voice, flat with disappointment, lacked its usual cadence. Hearing it, Tyr worried that he was betraying himself, displaying something he very much wanted to keep hidden. Turning on his heel, Tyr left the room abruptly. What he wished to escape, he did not know for certain; but somehow he had to leave.  
  
On the Com deck, Dylan greeted his ship's avatar affably. "Hello, Rommie."  
  
"Dylan. Do you have a moment?"  
  
"I don't know; do I? You've got a far better grasp of my schedule than I do." Dylan's eyes twinkled as he teased her.  
  
"Then yes," she replied firmly, "you do have a moment. I want to talk to you about Hallow."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I did a little digging into Mr. Severn's past, and I've found out a few things."  
  
All joking done, Dylan focused intently on her. "Go on."  
  
"Hallow Severn was reported as dead to Urisal pride nearly thirteen years ago after he tried to assault a Nietzschean woman and was exiled from the planet. Reports were that he was not picked by any mating female, so he took matters into his own hands." After flatly making that damning statement, Rommie sighed a little bit.  
  
"More?" Any impulse toward smiling had left Dylan.  
  
"Reports also suggest that Mr. Severn had been abused since birth because of his appearance."  
  
Rommie said nothing further for a while, letting this sink in. "Dylan," she continued, "Trance and I have persuaded Galil to attempt to fix Hallow's face. Now, however, I am unsure if we should proceed."  
  
Dylan stood silently for a while, processing. After a while he blew out a breath with an explosive burst and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nietzscheans give me a headache."  
  
Rommie nodded sympathetically. "Yes. And about that?"  
  
"Uh oh. What has Mr. Anasazi done now?"  
  
"Actually, nothing. However, I need to report that both his appetite and exercise are off. He does not seem to be thriving."  
  
This time the frown on Dylan' brow bespoke concern. "I know, Rommie, but I don't know what to do. Why are things so messed up, do you think?"  
  
"Well, I have given that some thought, and I do have a theory."  
  
"Proceed," Dylan invited.  
  
"I believe that Captain Valentine provided Tyr with his social and emotional connection to the rest of the crew. Before the Wormhole event, Tyr and Beka were often together. You paired them on assignments frequently. They worked out together. They sometimes met in Mess and ate together. Tyr helped Beka work on the Maru. And when Tyr was with Beka, all her contacts became his contacts. When Harper teased Beka, Tyr was there to join in. When Trance had a plant problem, Tyr heard it when she told Beka. When he wanted to complain about you, he had a willing ear in Beka."  
  
"What?" Mostly kidding, Dylan pretended indignation.  
  
Rommie rolled her eyes in response, then continued. "Now, that's all stopped, and I think Tyr has no idea how to connect, by himself, with the rest of us. Losing Beka means that Tyr has basically lost us all. It's a bad situation, Dylan, and I don't know to fix it."  
  
"And Beka's miserable."  
  
It was not a question, but she responded nonetheless. "Beka is indeed miserable. Though she seems to enjoy spending time with Hallow, her appetite is way off, but she's exercising more than ever."  
  
Dylan shook his head, frowning. "This sucks. Where's Rev Bem when I need him?" Still shaking his head, Dylan paused to think. "I guess I'll talk to Trance and see if she has any ideas about how to help Anasazi. Meanwhile, about Severn. I don't like what you've told me, but. he did help us escape the Ogami. I think if we can help him, we should. So you and Galil go ahead."  
  
"Thank you, Dylan." Rommie turned to leave as Beka entered Command.  
  
"Hiya, Dylan, Rommie" Beka reached for her old breeziness, but her tone fell flat. After a brief nod in return, Rommie, frowning in concern, left the deck.  
  
"Hi, Beka, how you doin'?" Dylan smiled warmly at her, trying not to worry too obviously. She had indeed perceptibly lost weight, and her assumed cheerfulness did not cover a finely tuned tension.  
  
"Uhh - fine. I'm fine."  
  
Dylan raised his brows at this; this was more obvious dissembling than before. "What." He did not make it a question.  
  
Beka sighed, explosively, and said, "Well, Tyr just had some head thing."  
  
"What do you mean, a head thing?"  
  
"I dunno. He came into the gym, seemed annoyed and then suddenly put his hand on his forehead and seemed to be in a lot of pain."  
  
"Uh-oh. That's not good."  
  
"No, but he left right away, so I'm not sure what's going on with him." For a moment, stark unhappiness stared from her eyes, but then she turned on the pretext of fiddling with an instrument cluster.  
  
"OK, well, you take Command, Beka, and I'll go find him, OK?" Dylan looked at her to be sure she understood that he would help Tyr.  
  
Beka smiled faintly, rubbing her hands on her thighs. "Yeah. Yeah, OK. I got Command."  
  
With a last look of mingled concern and caution, Dylan left the bridge.  
  
"Trance!" Dylan had started in hydroponics, been through Medical and was about to enlist Andromeda's help when he finally ran her down on the Obs deck. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, just. looking at the stars, Dylan. They're so beautiful, aren't they?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Trance smiled at the obvious impatience underlying his response. "Dylan, what do you need?"  
  
"I want to talk to you about Tyr. Beka said he had a head thing today, where his head started to hurt."  
  
Trance sighed and set aside her tranquility. "That's not necessarily good," she replied cautiously.  
  
"No. And Rommie thinks that Tyr is isolated without Beka, that he's not doing very well overall. He's been eating and exercising less."  
  
By now Trance was frowning. "Shoot," she said softly. "Why didn't I see that one coming?" Dylan, unable to answer that one, remained silent. "Um, OK, Dylan, I'll examine him again. Can you get him to the Med deck?"  
  
"Right away. Shipwide," he said, triggering shipwide sound. "Tyr to Med Deck. Tyr, report to the Med deck please."  
  
Trance hurried off the Obs deck to meet him.  
  
Tyr entered the Med deck at a run, blaster drawn. "What's wrong, Trance?"  
  
"Oh.nothing like that, Tyr, I just wanted to take a look at you."  
  
"What?" Tyr sighed impatiently. "Why did Dylan page me, then?"  
  
"Well, I mentioned to him that I wanted to look you over, and I guess he got a little carried away."  
  
With another huff, Tyr holstered his blaster and turned the full force of his irritation on the golden alien before him. "If I need a trip through Medical, I'll let you know."  
  
Trance cast down her eyes modestly. "I know. But since you're here, and your head has been hurting, can I take a quick look?"  
  
"From whom did you hear that my head hurt?"  
  
"From Dylan."  
  
"Ah." Tyr frowned for a moment, considering, then snapped his attention back to Trance as she readied an instrument. "OK, fine. Do whatever you need to do." With poor grace, he subsided onto an examination table.  
  
Ignoring his bad humor, Trance guided him to lie down, her hands very gentle on his shoulders. For a while, the Medical Deck was quiet as Trance quietly scanned Tyr's head and torso. Then, with seeming aimlessness, Trance said, "So, how's it going?"  
  
Obviously considering this inane, Tyr refused to respond.  
  
"OK, then, tell me about your head today."  
  
Tyr eyed her for another minute, and then complied. "I was in the gym, but I had not yet worked out. Beka and Servern were there. I was saying something to Beka when suddenly I felt. I am unsure how to describe it, but I saw a kind of flash, and Beka saying something to me, and then my head felt as though it might split into two pieces."  
  
"Ah," Trance intoned.  
  
"'Ah?' What does 'Ah' mean?" Tyr asked irritably.  
  
"Nothing," Trance answered innocently. "Then what happened?"  
  
"Nothing further, girl. I left the gym, and eventually the pain faded."  
  
"Oh," Trance intoned again.  
  
"Will you stop with these mysterious single syllable words?" Tyr said sharply. "What do you think is going on?"  
  
"Well, I think your brain is trying to reintegrate your lost memories."  
  
Tyr sat absolutely silent for a moment, wringing Trance's heart as he fought against speaking. Eventually, however, the question was dragged from him. "Trance. what did I forget? What was it?" Tyr's voice rasped as he asked, and his dark eyes pleaded with hers.  
  
Trance frowned in distress. "Tyr, I don't think I should tell you."  
  
Tyr's mouth set unhappily, and he closed his eyes and turned his face away from her. Almost without conscious thought, Trance reached out and smoothed his locks back from one temple, her touch compassionate. Tyr frowned, but did not move further.  
  
After a time, Trance continued. "If I tell you, Tyr, it may prevent you from remembering things yourself, ever. And you need to remember yourself."  
  
At that Tyr turned and pinned her with a dark gaze. "Why?"  
  
Trance was the one torn this time, and her teeth worried her bottom lip as she considered it.  
  
"Come on, Girl, tell me why."  
  
With a tiny sigh, she said, "Because if I tell you, you might never believe it. You'll only believe it if you remember it yourself."  
  
"Believe what? All this mystery about these memories - it is trying my patience! Believe what, if you please?"  
  
"But Tyr," Trance said, spreading her arms in a large shrug, "that's exactly what I can't answer."  
  
With a darkling look, Tyr turned away. "May I leave now?"  
  
Trance remained silent until he looked back at her. "Tyr.."  
  
"What?" he snapped.  
  
Trance swallowed before she spoke, her voice a little uncertain. "I want you to know, this crew cares about you, Tyr. Not just because you're strong and fast and excellent at weapons. We care about you, Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria by Barbarossa. We do."  
  
Tyr's dilating pupils over an incredulous frown betrayed his response to that one. Without another word, Tyr rose from the table and stalked off Medical deck. 


End file.
